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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25689124">Soulmates Disguised as Best Friends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/awstenlota/pseuds/awstenlota'>awstenlota</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:53:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,651</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25689124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/awstenlota/pseuds/awstenlota</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Patrick are childhood best friends. They know everything except one thing. They like eachother. In Patrick's quest to find himself, he poses as a One Direction fan account on Twitter who goes by Parker. One day, he decides to email Pete and that's when the most cliché high school love story starts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy Hurley/Joe Trohman, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, William Beckett/Gabe Saporta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Who is Parker?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this story is inspired by love simon</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I walked into Mr. Grey's English class. Most of them were just on their desks, chatting, but I targeted his old and rusty Target sofa where all my friends were. Dance Club Gabe, Choir Will and Band Joe. And then there's the other Choir kid, Patrick sitting in the far left, squished by Gabe. He's my childhood best friend, and we know everything about each other. Except one. </p><p>I have a crush on him. </p><p>I have no idea if he reciprocates my feelings towards him, and I doubt it. He always keeps his sexuality blurred. We don't know what he likes. He just exists. </p><p>Joe pulls my shirt sleeve. "Hey, Pete. C'mere dude." I sit on the dusty, lipstick covered sofa. There were at least six people sitting on this three-seater sofa. But no one cared. I try to make myself comfortable while being squished by Joe, and it's really hard. I'm leaning against Patrick, and I can't help but blush. Fuck. He notices my red cheeks, and being the concerned friend he is, he brings it up. "Why're you blushing, Pete?" He says that in his normal soft, fluffy Chicago accent. Even that sentence made me flutter. My cheeks turn a darker red. God, this is so embarrassing. I stayed silent, my mind stuck on how much I love Patrick. And all his little stupid things. The way he walks. The way he fiddles with his sweater paws when he's nervous. The way he just...exists. Whenever I see him post on the school Tumblr, I just go crazy. I mean, my heart just flips. Funny thing is that we've been friends for so long. Okay, that's enough. </p><p>"Pete?" He hums, his eyes glistening. Ahhhh fuck. </p><p>"Oh, um-" Mr. Grey walks in and calls us over. I promptly got up and got to my desk. I sit next to Patrick and Gabe. So that's another hour of staring at him. "Alright class. I'll be going through your tests today. The papers are not in order." Mr. Grey announced, and I was busy in my own imagination. Just imagining me and Patrick in love. I know that would never happen. And I shouldn't get my hopes up too much. I know that he wouldn't like me back anyway, because he's probably straight. I hate falling for straight guys. But he's kissed guys before. Doesn't mean he likes guys, right? I'm too much of a pussy to ask, so I have to find that out by myself.<br/>
"Pete, take your paper." I snapped out and into the real world, standing up to get my paper. Mr. Grey smiles at me, patting my shoulder. Great, I passed. Sitting down, Joe pops up from the corner of my eye. I already know what he wants. So, I straight away gave him my answer. "28/30." He slowly retracted back to his seat, and went to Gabe for his result. I look up to see Patrick's face shoved in his palms. That's definitely not a good sign. </p><p>After class, I saw him standing in front of his locker, messing up his papers and groaning. I came up to him, worried. I put down my bag next to his. I get nervous. "Hey, you alright?" He shakes his head, his eyes staring at the 11/30 on his paper in red ink. I sigh, hugging him. He doesn't like it when he fails, he feels as if he'd done the worst crime ever and I hate when he feels like that. It makes me really upset. Patrick drops the piece of paper and hugs me tighter. I can't help but to hold him even tighter. He eventually lets go, sniffling and eyes swollen. He wipes off the tears. "Thanks, Pete." He whispers his words, like it's a secret no one should know. His phone rang and it's no other than his girlfriend, Raenne or what her name is. She's from the other class and apparently hates my guts. "Um, I'll..go now. See you Pete." Patrick shut his locker door, grabbed his bag and left. I walked to my car and sat there in the pouring rain. I plugged in my phone to the speaker and blasted some Harry Styles. Nothing feels better than some Harry Styles during a thunderstorm. It makes everything better. I breathe in the fresh, cold air from my car air-conditioning. God, it feels so good. I checked my email, and I found one from someone on the school Tumblr, ravenwoodiaries. Of course, being the curious guy that I am, I decided to check it out. </p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com<br/>
To: brokenromances@gmail.com<br/>
Subject: hi. </p><p>hey pete, </p><p>i'm parker, and i find some of your poetry on the tumblr very awesome. i really like your style of writing and i'm that lwt17black who's been dm'ing you on your twitter (TPWKLWT91). i never expected you to be from ravenwood tbh. anyway i'd love it if we could be friends (if we aren't already!) that's it haha. </p><p>yours sincerely,<br/>
parker. </p><p>I was suprised to find out that it was one of my Twitter friends, because I never expected a schoolmate to have a fan account dedicated to One Direction? Anyway, of course I decide to answer. </p><p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com<br/>
To: fireproofparker@gmail.com<br/>
Subject: Re: hi. </p><p>Hi Parker, </p><p>I never expected you to be from Ravenwood too! I'm glad you like my writing, Parker, I really appreciate it! Also, we're already friends, don't worry! Really curious on how you found my email..</p><p>Anywayyy, we should deffo talk more! From our interactions on Twitter, you seem like a cool guy! Let's get closer :) </p><p>(p.s dm me that Larry fancam when you're done) </p><p>All the love,<br/>
Pete xx</p><p>I let out a comforting sigh after typing that email. God, who would've thought someone from Ravenwood would have a whole ass Twitter dedicated to One Direction? More specifically, Larry? Because of what I know, Patrick doesn't like One Direction, William does. I'm pretty sure his email isn't that because it has his name in it, and neither does he own lwt17black, he owns HSLOT93. Who the hell is Parker, and of course, I want to know. As I was busy wondering who it was, my phone buzzed. My mom texted asking where I was. So, I drove out the parking lot and headed home. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed my sister's car parked in front so that meant that she's home for the week. Great. I open the door to see my mom and sister sitting on the sofa watching The Bachelorette. They can't get enough of it, and it's a Wentz family tradition. My mom invites me to watch it with her. "Mom, you know I'm not into these things." I groan, going up the stairs. I ignored her blabbering and went straight into my room. I toss my bag next to my laundry basket spilling with old clothes. I took off my shirt and threw it on top of that pile of old shirts. I laid down on my bed, prepping up my laptop. The One Direction and Arctic Monkeys vinyls hanging askew on my wall sees everything I do. And I mean everything. </p><p>I go on ravenwoodiaries to see if Patrick posted. And he did. So I click on it to read it. Here they come, the butterflies.  </p><p> </p><p>Post by nervousbreakdance on Thursday, October 14 2020, 5:31PM<br/>
So, Halloween is around the corner! God I'm super excited! My mom's done the decorating already and I can tell she's pumped up as well. Hazie's been texting me about how much she's anticipating it too! What are your plans for Halloween eve, Ravenwood? I'm interested to know!<br/>
-Patrick :) </p><p>Ugh, he mentioned his girlfriend again. I hate it when he just mentions her. It makes me irrationally angry. Maybe it's because of how I have a massive stupid fucking crush on him. How stupidly in love I am. I screamed into my pillow in frustration. My sister walks into my room, sitting on the bed. She rubs my back. "What's up, 'lil bro?" She always seems so calm and composed for a 21 year old college student, I'd expect her to sound rough and pissed off, but seems like she's still the old Christabelle. I don't get my face off the slightly wet pillow. She lays next to me, giving me a little hug. I sniff her hoodie. "You smell nice, Chris." I was muffled. She silently laughed. "It's Noah's." I got my face off her hoodie, now my back leaning against the bed frame. I sighed, looking at my laptop screen. There Patrick's post was showcased, with keyboard smash in the comment box. I'm frustrated, and I shouldn't be. "Hazel hates me." I blurt. </p><p>"I don't think she does," Christabelle doesn't even know what she looks like, that's the funny thing. "Why would she hate her boyfriend's childhood best friend?" </p><p>"Because she's the type of girl that would?" I raise an eyebrow. Christabelle chuckled. </p><p>"I mean, to be fair, from what I see on her Instagram, she'd totes shit talk you behind his back."</p><p>"See what I mean?" </p><p>Christabelle really doesn't know anything about Hazel, other than being Patrick's girlfriend, and my sort-of enemy. She's the only one who knows I have a crush on Patrick, and I'm glad she's the only person who knows because if I told William or Gabe about it, they'd make a big deal out of it. Well, they're dating and they really are bad at keeping secrets. Joe would keep it, but he'd be the type who would forget and casually bring it up. Andy would just decline. That leaves me with my Poets' Academy friend Travie and my neighbor Ryan. I'm quite close with Travie and he'd totally keep that secret, and would keep it until you tell him that it's okay to tell people. Sort of like Christabelle. My brother on the other hand, he's never really home long enough now so I don't know. I try to strike up a conversation with Christabelle. "How's college?" She shrugs. "Eh. It's okay." She doesn't seem to be in the mood to talk. I get to leave me alone. She closes the door and I lock it. Now all that I'm all alone, I can blast my favorite The 1975 song and drown in the awesomeness that is Settle Down.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sexuality.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Parker sends Pete a worrisome email regarding his sexuality.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject: sexuality.</p><p>pete, </p><p>today i wanna talk about something that's bothering me for a while. my sexuality. i think i've mentioned this in our dms on twitter, but i feel like emailing you would be better (i guess?). i really think i like guys better than i like girls, and it's really been bothering me a bunch recently. it's taking me a long time to settle with the decision of me being.. gay. i don't have anything against the LGBT community (my aunt is a lesbian and my uncle is trans ftm) it's just..hard to think that i'm the gay one. i dont want to tell my girlfriend just yet, i don't know how she'd react. can you just give me some advice, since you're out to your family and basically everyone. </p><p>yours sincerely <br/>a very anxious parker</p><p> </p><p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject: Re:sexuality. </p><p>Parker, </p><p>I know how it feels, and it's really hard. It's okay if you take a long time! There's no time limit on finding yourself, the thing is, taking your time is important! Making sure you internally understand and accept yourself is way more important than making sure your surroundings give a fuck about what you are and who you love. If they don't accept you, who the hell cares? There are a bunch of people who accept you, and they don't have to be family! If you come out, and your family somehow kicks you out, you can crash at my place, or even William's! Don't worry, even if you're gay, I wouldn't see you any differently. You're still Parker (whatever your last name is), nothing changed about you, other than the fact you like guys. So, don't worry, take your time and I'm sure you'll come to terms with your sexuality. If you still have some, well, can I say, questions, you can just search up for help videos on YouTube. Some of them helped me come out, maybe not for you, but you should try. </p><p>I hope whatever bullshit I puked out from memory made sense and (kinda) helped you. Sorry if I didn't, I'm just really tired recently. </p><p>All the love, <br/>Pete xx</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Truth Is Getting Closer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>basically. um. uh. yeah. patrick ignores everyone.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I meet Travie in the school parking lot in my car before Algebra. He's sitting in the passenger seat, holding a Venti cup of some tea he likes to drink. It's a considerably hot day for Fall, but it didn't stop me from wearing my favorite hoodie. It's just some Louis Tomlinson merch, since 95% of my wardrobe is literally band merch. We sit there accompanied by the soft sound of my Spotify. We're just there, waiting for the perfect time to head to class. "How's your sister?" Travie always asks about Christabelle. I have no idea why, but it might be because his brother is good friends with her. I hum. "She's okay. She's back for the week." He smiled, looking down on his hands. He has a thing where he'd sketch tattoos on his hands when he's bored. I find it cute. Today, it was sketches of little cartoon characters and his own characters. Travie traces the sketches with his finger, humming the melody to Teen Romance. I sigh, sinking into the car seat. I shut my eyes, thinking about Parker. He sent an email talking about how he's been discovering his sexuality, and how he's realizing that he doesn't like girls. He doesn't know how to convey that to his girlfriend, and I have no idea either, because I've dated boys for the last three years. First it was Jake in Freshman year, who was really annoying. Then Gabe in Sophomore year. Yes, <em>the</em> Gabe I'm friends with. He's the one I lost my virginity with. It's awkward when I see him and William talk sex because I'd be there recalling the times I did it with him. I've only dated two so far, and the longest was with Gabe. The last time I dated a girl was in 9th grade. Seriously. </p><p>We walked out of the car and I saw Patrick arguing with Hazel at the front entrance. This has become sort of a daily occurrence, everyday you'd see them out the door, arguing like two lions in a fight. Travie nudges my elbow. "Wonder what they're arguing about today." He sneered, giving me a stink eye. I furrow my eyebrows. "Do you really think they quarrel about me, Trav?" He kept his mouth shut. As we drew closer to them, I could hear what they were quarrelling about. "You and your stupid best friend! What about me? I'm your fucking girlfriend, Patrick! You should care about me, not that fucking idiot you call 'best friend'!" Once I heard that, my heart shattered. I knew it. She hates me. Patrick retaliated. "Oh, fuck you. You're so self-centered, Haz. Just because we fucked and we're a couple doesn't mean I can't give a fuck about my childhood best friend, no? Now, can you just fuck off and let me go to class? Thanks." That was the first time in a long time since I heard a swear word escape from his thin lips. I walk past her with Travie by my side and she grabs my arm. Tightly. Jesus Christ, a big storm is coming. In the form of an angry jealous white girl. </p><p>"You motherfucker!" No other words, a tight slap across my face. Everyone turned around to look at us both. Travie pulls me back and I see Patrick run toward me. He immediately holds my face, rubbing it. I like how it felt. "Are…are you okay, Pete?" He mutters, concerned. I pulled his hand off my face, and nodded. </p><p>I look at Hazel dead in the eyes. "What's your problem with me?" She scoffs. </p><p>"You stay away from my boyfriend," she points her little fingers in front of my face, maybe to serve as a warning. "or you'll get it." She pushes me in some sort of Mean Girls fashion and annoyingly walks away. I laugh, rolling my eyes. Travie rests his arm on my shoulder. "Huh. What is she gonna do? Beat you?" I shrug. "Probably." I push his arm off my shoulder and head to Algebra. Hazel and I have it together and she sits right front. I sit at the back with Travie. I don't really care about Algebra. Mr. Wesley doesn't teach really well so I couldn't care less. He doesn't even call on me anyway, so why'd I bother. I spend the time on Twitter checking my timeline. I noticed a new tweet from Parker. </p><p>He mentioned how today started badly and he 'quarrelled with his girlfriend'. That sounded awfully familiar. Before I could reply to the tweet, he quickly deleted it. What if Parker was Patrick? Travie looks over my phone. "Psst. Is that the Parker you told me about?" I nod. He grabbed my phone to scroll through his profile. "He sounds like Patrick." I raise an eyebrow, grabbing my phone back. There's no way that's Patrick. I don't think so. He doesn't like One Direction. I mean, he doesn't fancy pop music. He listens to Queen and shit. Like Ryan. I whisper to Travie. "I don't think that's him, Trav. He doesn't like One Direction." He just silently giggles. He grabs a piece of paper and writes something on it. <em>'His name is Parker, he's 17, he's in Ravenwood, he lives close to the Wal-mart, he plays guitar. Enough clues? Also, he calls his bestfriend Kingston and girlfriend Grace. Isn't Grace Hazel's middle name? Kingston's your middle name. SERIOUSLY. you're so idiotic. smhhh'</em> I take a look at what he wrote. How the hell did he know that? But I'm still standing on my ground that it isn't Patrick. That is totally not him. "You're being silly, Trav. Didn't he say that One Direction wasn't his cup of tea?" Travie ignores me. He grabs the paper again to scribble some other words before handing it to me and continuing his little tattoo sketches. <em>'Okay if you don't wanna believe. Wait until the day you find out. He likes you. :)'</em> What? You're telling me, Patrick Stump, likes guys? </p><p>Today I sat in the cafeteria with Travie and Ryan, who's a sophomore. William and Gabe are nowhere to be seen, and Andy and Patrick's heads pop out from the crowd. We call them over. "Hey." Andy puts down his stack of books he was reading as usual. You'll never see Andy empty-handed. He's always got a book or two in hand. I waved to Patrick and he smiled slightly. I can't help but to notice his rosy cheeks. He's blushing. Is he blushing because I literally waved at him? After he notices my maintained eye contact with him, he snaps out and looks back down on his plate of food. "Patrick's being so secretive nowadays," Ryan whispered. I slightly nod. It's true, he hasn't been texting and calling me as often anymore, nor has he been updating his Twitter (that he uses to mainly keep up with the school's account that he partly-runs). I only talk to him in school and in the parking lot, which is also worse because of Hazel always tagging along. "He's never like this." I shove the disgusting cafeteria food in my mouth. It tastes like literal sewage, but I still have to eat it anyway. "He's been avoiding us, especially you, Pete. It's like he's hiding something that he's ashamed of." Travie chimes in, his mouth filled with the most horrifyingly dry and crumbly mac and cheese ever. Some of the crumbs landed in my sandwich. Yuck. </p><p>I decided to ask Patrick what's wrong."Hey, Trick. What's up? You've been, I don't know, avoiding us- avoiding me? Are you okay?" He maintains the straight face he has. His mouth droops down a little, now frowning. He isn't going to speak I thought, so I wrote it on the napkins. <em>'Are you okay Patrick??'</em> I pass it to him. He looked at it for a while and scribbled his answer. <em>'I'm okay dont worry'</em> Seems unlikely. I can see through his dumb ass lies. He thinks he's so slick. Doesn't he realize we've been friends our entire lives? That I can totally know when he's giving me a lie? "Patrick, seriously, are you okay?" I whisper-shout. He visibly shrinks in fear, as if he's afraid that something offensive would come out when he speaks. I shake my head lightly "Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with this kid?" I thought. I continued eating before heading back to my locker to get my stuff for Chemistry. While I was rummaging through my things, Hazel appears out of nowhere (probably Hell) and starts to interrogate me. "Hey." she crosses her arms, rolling her eyes. I sigh, shutting my locker door. "What the fuck do you want now?" She smirks. I find her so pretentious, it literally makes my blood boil. God, I just wanna to Chemistry class. I shoved her aside and walked into the lab. Well, not even a foot in, she pulls me back out. "You don't leave Hazel Grace Adams just like that." She says that like she's a part of some sort of royal family. NEWSFLASH: you're not. Come back to Earth. I roll my eyes, ignoring her. I shut the lab door with a smirk on my face. "Fuck off, Hazel." I mutter under my breath. </p><p>"You seem angry today, Peezy." Gabe teased. I'm not in the mood for his stupid teasing. I drop my bag on the lab floor, prepping the chemicals and tools. "Pete, really? C'mon, cheer up bud!" He hit my back, and I almost dropped the cone beaker. I groan, placing the beaker on the table and turning to face him. "Gabe. I'm not in the mood to do your silly ass shit. Let's get this shit done so I can get back to William's, okay?" I planned to tell everything to William, because I just found out that he's actually really good at hiding things and keeping secrets. He has my trust. Gabe slowly moves back and preps his stuff. I think I should've been less hostile. Now I feel bad. Fuck. This always happens. I spend the whole hour, you know, doing some experiments with some Chemistry shit before the school bell rings, signifying the end of school. As everyone was busy gossiping through the hallways, I  just walked to my car with some music playing. All I can think of is Patrick. Patrick. Patrick. Everything's revolving around him. It's so chaotic now, Halloween, Parker, Patrick and Hazel fighting and my parents trying to find my brother. God, I wish I could stop time. </p><p>I drive to William's house in complete silence – just me and the engine sounds. It's weirdly comforting. It brings you back to your childhood when you lay down on the car seats and you just hear the soft engine sounds. It took me about 15 minutes to reach there from school. Once I pulled up, I saw Patrick walking out from the back of the house. He came here too? I quickly stopped him. "Hey Patr–" </p><p>"Don't talk to me." He walked away, teary eyed. I stood there. My heart skips a beat and I start to think. The way in which he said that. The anger. The fury. The frustration. What did I do wrong? All these years – from when we were toddlers till now, I've never seen this from him. What the hell is happening? My world is spinning and I can't seem to stop it. I hesitate to walk to the basement door from outside. There's this invisible force stopping me. But I go anyway. I need to tell him. When I walk in, he's there in some sort of 90s TV show chair, with a can of Arizona in his right hand. He offers me a seat. "What's the issue, honeybun?" He greets me with a sweet smile. A Beckett trademark. I don't return the grin back, I just have a straight face. I just want to get to the damn point. I like Patrick Martin Stumph. I clear my throat, getting ready to be honest to him."So. I, um– okay. Let me be super fucking honest. I like Patrick." I said that sentence lightning fast, I just wanted it to be over. He simply raises an eyebrow. "Okayyy. And?" He sips his drink. </p><p>"That's all you have to say? Okay? Seriously?" I let out a disappointed sigh. </p><p>He laughs. "Pete. You like Patrick. That's one thing. Right?" I nod. "Yeah." </p><p>"He probably likes you back, Pete."</p><p>I scoffed. Everyone said this. Isn't it so obvious he's straight?! "Will, he's fucking STRAIGHT. Straight. S-T-R-A-I-G-H-T." He doesn't respond anymore, he just silently laughs at me. This isn't any help at all. He's as useless as Travie's notes about Parker. Parker isn't Patrick, and Patrick isn't gay! "Pete. Don't just assume shit. Maybe he is, he's just good at hiding it?" I sigh, tears brimming in my eyes. I sniffle, William handing me a tissue. Fuck. I'm getting emotional. He smiles, pulling me into his arms. “Shh. It's okay. Let it all out, sweetums.” He cooed. I felt comfortable to cry in front of someone other than Patrick. For once. So I let it all out. The ugly too. William didn't look at me weird, he just sat there comforting me. No wonder so many people confide with him. He's good at talking to people. I calm down, leaning back on the chair. I take a deep breath. "Why do you like him? Is there a specific? Or you just, generally find him attractive? There must be something.”</p><p>I sigh. “I don’t fucking know. There’s just something about him. I don’t know what, but he just makes me...happy.” Will simply grins. </p><p>“It’s okay, hun. I completely understand that feeling. You know, Patrick came over earlier.”</p><p>“Yeah. I bumped into him.” He leans forward. “What’d he say?”</p><p>“He didn’t say anything. He seemed pissed off.” William furrowed his eyebrows. He genuinely was confused, it looked like he saw Patrick in a better mood. I start to overthink about all this. Patrick probably hates me. He hates his childhood best friend. This is horrible. Fuck. And then I think about Parker. How he types in lowercase. How he uses emojis. How he has a wall filled with Louis Tomlinson pictures. </p><p>He is a peace of mind. And how he’s a piece of my mind. </p><p>“He hates me..” I whisper under my breath. </p><p>"No, he doesn't. Trust me. One day, you'll know how he really feels." And then he walks out. Leaving me alone in his sketchy basement. Today was a great day. I leave his basement and shut the door. I sat in my car, drove home and went to bed to cry. I want this all to be over. </p><p>I heard my bedroom door open, and I expected Christie or even my mom to be there, but it was surprisingly my brother Matthew, who I'd never expect to come back. He's the eldest, he's like 24 and he isn't home often for some reason. He smiles and collapses on my desk chair. He stretches his arms. "Hey, bud. What's up?" I don't have the mood to talk to him. It's been two years since I last talked to him. I just disconnected from Matthew. I often forget that he's even my brother. "Ethan, I don't wanna talk now." Ethan's his nickname, because initially his name was supposed to be Ethan. Somehow my parents thought Matthew Dylan Wentz was a good idea for a name. He lays down next to me, grabbing my Arctic Monkeys pillow and hugging it. "What's wrong, Brennan?" Goddamnit. He in return often calls me by my almost-name, Brennan. I like Brennan actually. But, I'm stuck with this name for now. "Nothing." I shut my eyes, trying to sleep and forget about Patrick. Then, he decides to mention it. Somehow, he knows I like Patrick. He just knows. "How's Martin?" He has a thing he does and that is calling people by their middle name. I find it weird, because he calls my sister Lucy, my dad Lewis, my mom Marie and Gabe Eddy. Short for Eduardo. I find it so fucking weird. "He's okay." Can he just leave already? </p><p>He gets off my bed and walks to the door. He turns around for a second. "Hey, if that girl Gemma is still around...tell her Matty said hi." Then he walks out. I don't know someone called Gemma, so I will not be telling her he said hi. Maybe tomorrow I'll email Parker. Or maybe I should do it tonight. </p><p>I should do it tonight. Parker is my safe haven. </p><p>He's my new Patrick Stump. Until the Patrick Stump I know returns.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Halloween Talk and An Oopsie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>patrick does an oopsie.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com<br/>
To: fireproofparker@gmail.com<br/>
Date: October 20, 2020<br/>
Subject: Spooky spooky time!! </p><p>Parker, </p><p>Can you believe we're only less than a week away from Halloween? Holy shit, I thought it was August last week! So, what are your plans for Halloween? My family's gone all for it; spooky decorations everywhere and we already have our costumes picked. I'm Harry Styles this year, my sister is Lorde, and my 24-year old brother is going for some usual Zombie thing. This is his first Halloween in two years, and I'm excited to see the shocked faces of the people we'll go trick-or-treating to! Imagine seeing a 15, 17, 21 and 24 year old going for trick-or-treating. Wild, right? </p><p>Oh, I didn't mention my younger sister Riley, who's a freshman. She's a really quiet type of person, which is such a contrast from the outspoken and wild nature of the rest of us. She's just like my best friend. </p><p>ANYWAY. MAIN FOCUS. HALLOWEEN. Quick question: What is your favorite candy? Mine are Reese's. They're so goooood! Ugh, anything peanut butter and chocolate is my favorite. Gosh I wish i could bathe in that. Just imagine how blissful that would be. The chocolaty goodness with the peanut butter? Sign me the hell up!! </p><p>(p.s heard you wanted to be Louis for Halloween? Is that true? Because I'd think you'd be the perfect height since he's so god damn small.)</p><p>–Pete</p><p> </p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com<br/>
To: brokenromances@gmail.com<br/>
Date: October 20, 2020<br/>
Subject: Re: Spooky spooky time!! </p><p>pete,</p><p>no i can't and will never be! gosh i wouldn't think we'd be this far into the year.. we're so close to homecoming and christmas! my family isn't really into halloween, we just decorate our house and put the trick-or-treat box on our front porch. so that means no costumes :(</p><p>ive heard your sister's name before and she seems cool. </p><p>my favorite candy is definitely snickers. yeah i reallyyyyyyyy!!!!!! love them. i have a box of them in my room. </p><p>actually yeah it's true i wanted to be him but my mom said no</p><p>i got mr. wesleys work to do so i'll be back. </p><p>yours sincerely<br/>
parker</p><p> </p><p>From:brokenromances@gmail.com<br/>
To:fireproofparker@gmail.com<br/>
Subject: Re: Spooky spooky time!! </p><p>Parker, </p><p>Mr. Wesley? You mean, Algebra Mr. Wesley? Junior year? He teaches you? </p><p>I think I know who you are. </p><p>–Pete</p><p> </p><p>From:fireproofparker@gmail.com<br/>
To: brokenromances@gmail.com<br/>
Subject: Re: Spooky spooky time!! </p><p>pete, </p><p>fuck i didn't mean to oh my god im sorry no if you know who i am please don't spread it</p><p>yours anxiously and sorry<br/>
parker</p><p> </p><p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com<br/>
To:fireproofparker@gmail.com </p><p>It's okay. You don't have to tell me. I'm sorry if I made you anxious, Parker. I didn't mean it. </p><p>You don't have to be sorry. I wouldn't be actively trying to find who you are. </p><p>–Pete</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Exhausted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>basically a mess</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I couldn't get over the fact that Parker mentioned Mr. Wesley in yesterday's email. So today I was often staring at Patrick to see how he'd act in class. Now, he gets all jittery and nervous around me like I do with him. He tries to minimize his interactions with me, and today no less he doesn't talk to me often. Briana from Poet's Acad leans toward me. "Hey Petey," she pulls out a piece of paper. "Is your big brother back home from Ontario?" I nod, opening up the piece of paper. It had a number and a big name on it. Gemma Anderson. I recalled that name. "Tell Matty to call my sister, okay? Thanks." She gives me a wide smile before returning back to her seat. I sent a text to my brother. 'Matty text this number Bri gave it to me (741)-6597-593 apparently its that Gemma you asked for okay see ya' He shortly responds. 'Cool. I'll drop Gem a text. Thanks Bren :)' I quickly kept my phone when I saw Mr. Wesley coming my way. I picked up a pen and wrote some sort of stupidly complex and long equation that he showed on the projector. He walks toward me, looking at my work. He briefly looked at me and then walked away with his loud ass shoes. I continued staring at Patrick until the bell rang, which means History class with William, Gabe and Travie. I meet them outside our classroom. </p><p>"Heyyyyy." William slides next to Travie, hugging his shoulder. Gabe immediately slides to William and holds his hand. I stand there awkwardly. "Hey Will." I turned to face Gabe, who was wearing some sort of Troye Sivan hoodie. It looked like William's, since I saw a patch on the hood. If you see a patch on a hoodie, it's his. "I like your hoodie Gabe." Gabe giggles, and the way he giggles is absolutely adorable. He squeezes and blushes a bit. "Thanks." We stood there in a triangle of sorts, and discussed Parker. William follows him on Twitter too, although they aren't as close. He refers to Parker as "the guy who probably is someone I'm close with", and hints that he has strawberry blonde hair. Approximately 15 people in Junior year have that hair color. 5 of them are Poet's Academy members. Taylor Abbey, Braxton Adler, his sister Scarlett, Harper Roberts and some freshman named Gerard. A kid born in 2005 named fucking Gerard. That's a sin. Maybe his parents thought naming his kid after my history teacher-ex My Chemical Romance lead singer was a good idea. Speaking of MCR, all four members are teachers in my school. Mikey Way teaches Chemistry to the freshmen and seniors, Frank Iero is my Poet's Academy teacher and Ray Toro teaches Spanish. I don't take it, but my older sister did when she was in high school. She said it was an 'interesting' experience. Then Mr. Way (the older one, my history teacher) chimes in our conversation. "Hey guys." He tucks his hair behind his ears. I never noticed how long it was. Gabe smiles, tugging Mr. Way's shirt sleeve. "It's Geeweezy! What's happenin', my dude?" Gabe is really close to him, considering his dad once worked with Gerard when MCR was still, well, an actual band. I really like his way of teaching, incorporating music into whatever we learn. He's really popular among students in Ravenwood, even the really asshole-y soccer kids. He makes everyone so happy. Gerard simply smiles. He tells us to move into his awesomely decorated classroom, with flags everywhere and fun posters handmade by his daughter and him. His class is literally my favorite and the only one I actually do work for. I sit there next to Braxton, who was really tempted to learn about the Tulsa Race Massacre. My school is a bit different, because we teach US and world history in a way where we are taught stuff not usually taught, and in different perspectives. Well, it does make sense that we're one of the top schools in the outer Chicago suburbs. I nudge Braxton's arm. </p><p>He immediately turns toward me. He came from a really racist area where he was often ridiculed for being black, before moving to the Chicago suburbs seven years ago. He's this really interesting guy, who's really invested in history and literature. Fun fact: he's also my neighbor and often comes over to have a pool party. "Um, Brax, can I ask you something?" He gives me a little sincere smile and nod. That's his signal for 'you're good to go, ask your question'. He doesn't talk often. "You know Parker right? The guy from Twitter?" Braxton nods again. He pulls out a little note, with what looks like Travie's handwriting. He hands it to me and shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets. "Parker is Patrick Stump. Stumplet likes dudes. Man, have you ever seen him kiss Hazel?" He sighs, grabbing his notes and reading them. He doesn't look at me, rather just putting on a blank expression. "PLKW, you've known him your whole life, aren't you supposed to know everything?" He raises his eyebrow, and that blank expression stays. I hate this. What is Travie, William and Braxton trying to hide? What's with the 'Parker is Patrick' narrative? Isn't it so fucking clear that he likes GIRLS? </p><p>"Brax, he's fucking straight. A heterosexual. He likes girls."</p><p>"Nuh-uh. He's a total gay guy. Dude, I'm fucking gay. And my gaydar is really accurate."</p><p>I sigh. "I've known him longer. How'd you know?" He puts down his notes and turns his whole body toward me. I feel my body tense up. "Okay, let me ask you something. Who was the first person you came out to when you realized you were bi in Freshman year?" That question had me thinking. I came out to this half-German, quarter-Japanese-British kid named Ichika Schimdt (yeah seriously, her first name is in Japanese, her middle name is Rose and surname in German), who came from Japan. I only knew her for three months and surprisingly she was really supportive. Her sister Yua and her brother Haruto even threw me a party. "Um, Ichika?" He looked a bit shocked and confused. "The Japanese kid from the other class?" I nod. </p><p>"How long did you know her for?" </p><p>"Like, three months. I only told Patrick and Gabe two months later." He cracks a little mischievous smile. "Why did you tell her first?" I swallow. "She didn't have the kind of history I had with Gabe and Patrick. It's something about that. It seems easier, you know?" He hummed, bopping his head. </p><p>"Ah. See?" After that, he literally ignores me for the rest of the lesson. It's so weird. Now is weird. What's happening is weird. Matthew suddenly came back from Ontario, Patrick is ignoring me and Travie, Braxton and William are acting so strange. What does this all mean? Am I overthinking shit? </p><p>I head to the front to talk to Mr. Way. "Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?" He tells me to take a seat. He clears his throat and his fingers intertwine. His posture tells me something–he knows what I want to talk to him about. "Pete. This is about Patrick, right?" My eyes widen. He probably read my mind, or saw my mom's texts about it. I awkwardly nod. I sink into the back-breaking wooden chairs. "What about him that you're worried about?" </p><p>"He's ignoring me." I feel tears coming up already. "He's never like this." The older man cracks a tiny smile and reaches out his hand to my shoulder. I feel like he always has an answer ready in his head even before you tell him your problem. He hums. "I've heard about this behavior from other classmates and teachers too. He's been really unproductive and his grades are dropping. Do you know why's that, Pete?" I drop my head down into my palms, groaning. God, I don't know why and that's why I'm here in front of you. Jesus, sometimes old people are so frustrating. Not saying Gerard is that old, I'm just speaking in general. I shake my head, my face still buried in my now increasingly sweaty palms. I hear him grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, and that means he'll write whatever bullshit I spew and hand it to my therapist. He's the only one who knows my therapist because apparently his brother's wife is her colleague. Whatever. He places his hand on my back, slowly drawing a circle to calm me down. "It's completely fine, Pete. I didn't have to know anyway, I was just curious if you knew because, well, you know why." I picked up my head and sighed loudly. "I'm just so tired from everybody trying to hide something from me. Especially Will, Trav and Brax. I'm seriously so fed up." He simply smiles. </p><p>"They know what you don't know about someone you love." My face crunches up. </p><p>"What…what do you mean Mr. Way?" </p><p>He silently laughs. I await for an answer anxiously. I tilt my head slightly. "It's something that person isn't ready to tell you about yet." I sat there in shock. What? What is Patrick trying to hide from me? What is so controversial that he doesn't want to tell me? "W-what?" I stutter. </p><p>"I said it. Someone you love isn't ready to tell you something. I don't know the specifics of course, but I assure you, it will come soon."</p><p>I burrow my eyebrows. I'm starting to feel as if all these things are leading to something. I tug at my jean threads. "O-oh." I lift my head to face him. "Um, I have a Poet’s Acad meeting. Uh, s-so..I’ll leave.” I left the room to head to the Language block. I see Mr. Iero standing with a clipboard in his hands and a pen dangling from his thin lips. He looks up to face me, with his iconic ‘Iero stance’. He grabs the end of the pen and swings it down to the board. Mr. Iero licks his lips. “Ah, Mr. Wentz. Where did you come from?” He marks my name on the list with a red tick. I drop my bag next to Travie’s. “History..?” My tone drops. He sneered. “Ah. Gerard?” He shines whenever we mention MCR or Gerard. Especially Gerard. A smile forms on his pale face. He starts to blush slightly. </p><p>"You can go in." He opens the door and gestures me into the room. Before I fully step inside, I turn back to face him. "Mr. Way said hello by the way." </p><p>He smiled. "Oh. T-thanks." </p><p>I returned the smile and went to sit next to Briana. She smiles widely, picking her book off my chair. I took my book out and started to read through our tasks. She leans over my shoulder, curious to see what I've written. Mr. Iero told us to write a few short poems about friendship and I decided to write them about Patrick. Obviously. "Ooh," She rests her chin on my shoulder. "Who'd you write about?" I physically deflate on the chair. "Patrick." </p><p>Briana looks at me. She seems worried. </p><p>"P-Patrick?" Her wide smile drops. Her eyebrows furrowed, a worrisome expression tapered on her face. She inspects my poems. Her fingers race past words on the paper faster than I could keep up. Little words escaped her lips but I couldn't catch them. She started to tremble slightly. "Wait," she leans closer to my ears, as if she's telling me a secret. "You.. you know, he told me something the other day." She pauses seemingly to collect her thoughts, worried that what she'd say might offend me. She leans a bit closer. "It doesn't feel right saying this, I'm risking his privacy, but I really feel like I need to tell you this—it just feels right to." I raised my eyebrows. What's so secretive about this? I started to get anxious. "Patrick..he..he likes–" As she was about to finish her sentence, Mr. Iero chimes in from behind, signifying the start of our meeting. </p><p>He clasps his hands together and smiles. He's seated at the middle of the circle, with 12 clipboards and a container of pens. This means group activity. Yeay. Totally excited. Since we have 60 people in our club, that meant we had to have five people in our group. I eyed Bri, Brax, Ryan and Travie. We would always be in a group. If it's a six-person, we'd add my sister Riley (if she wants) or Harper. You can say we're the iconic group. As Mr. Iero instructs us, we form our groups. We sit in a circle on the floor with all our legs stretched out and soles touching each other. Travie turns his body toward me, with Braxton’s arms twisted around him. He shoots a sinister smile. “How’s you and Patrick doin’?” I internally sigh. Not. Again. I ignore his query. Everytime he sees me now he'd ask me about Patrick. </p><p>"We aren't talking at the moment." And at that moment, I got a text from William. </p><p>Will: dude where r u? </p><p>Why the hell is he asking where I am? Doesn't he have practice now? I reply. </p><p>i'm in an acad meeting </p><p>He swiftly replies again. </p><p>Will: gotta come over asap. patrick's been dumped. well not really but i guess in the process. tell mr. iero u have a fam emergency. i got ur mom on it. </p><p>Patrick got dumped?! What the actual mother of hell is happening?! I jumped up and headed for Mr. Iero at the back of the room. I tapped his shoulders while my feet shuffled below. I couldn't stand still— I was so nervous about Patrick. "Mr. Iero… um..I-I...I have a family emergency." He turns his head to me and tells me to go back home. No more words, just a look and nod. I sent a sort-of smile to him and off I headed to William's house. Once I reached there, the front door was wide open, and I could see Gabe standing in the distance. I fumbled with the car keys and sprinted into his house. My eyes scrambled to find Patrick. I turn to Gabe. "Where's Patrick?" He points to Will's room on the second level. "He's in there, crying. Go." I climbed up the stairs faster than I've ever done. I rushed into William's room to see Patrick sat on his bed, leaning on the wall looking like a whole mess. I couldn't help but to pull him into a huge hug. But he flinched. That pierced my soul. Tore me open. Ripped me to shreds. </p><p>He hates me. He hates me. He hates me. </p><p>Patrick muttered  something, but only William could catch it. I just backed off and stood there helpless. Staring at Will's picture covered walls, with fairy lights and a huge My Chem poster on the ceiling. I was just simply nothing. As if my almost 17-year history with Patrick just disintegrated. I dropped myself onto the floor, my knees tucked against my chest. I felt tears brimming in my eyes already. Why do I have to always cry at Will's room? My face was buried in my arms, covering up the fact that I'm absolutely ugly crying. The iconic Pete crying. I felt fingers running on my back, and it felt like Gabe's. I lifted my head up and saw Gabe leaning his head on my shoulder, caressing me. He sighs. "Pete," He stopped, now tucking on his knee. "I think Patrick needs some time." I moved my body further to the side, Gabe sat up straight now. "Is this all a fucking game to you?" I stand up. "This is all some fucking stupid ass game you're playing with everyone! Am I right?" I hiss. William stares at me guiltily, while Gabe frowns. "By the look of your faces, I can see that I'm just a toy to you all! Right!? You keep saying bullshit to me, thinking I'd believe it?" I grabbed Will's diary and threw it against the wall. It almost hit Patrick. But that doesn't matter now. "No fucking way, over my fucking dead body! I'm so sick and tired of all your tricks." I turn to face Patrick. And I suddenly calmed. "You know what Patrick? I'm sure you're happy with that new kid you're hanging out with. You hate me now. I'm just so un-cool. I'm not your best friend anymore." I start to cry. "You hate me Patrick." I stormed out the room and headed to my car. William follows me. "Hey, Pete! I can explain!" Before I shut the door, I grabbed his shirt. "I'm tired. Quit your bullshit Will!" I pushed him away, slamming the car door in front of his face. I drove off angrily. </p><p>I was pissed. And I had every right to be. </p><p>I was screaming and shouting the whole journey back home. As I pulled into the garage, my mom appeared. She had her tiny little smile on her face as usual. I marched to the door when I was stopped by her. "How's Patri–" I put my hand up to her. "Mom. No more. Not. The. Time." I slammed the door in her face and went straight into my room. I locked the door, making sure no one could get in. </p><p>I grabbed everything and destroyed every single thing Patrick gave me. It took me time. But I did it. My hysterical screaming and shouting grabbed my parents' attention, and they got worried. I heard my dad's knocks on my door. "Pete? Are you okay?" </p><p>Meanwhile: "I fucking hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOUUUUU!"</p><p>I eventually got tired and broke down. By now, my dad went to bed and my mom went to get my sister. I was laying in bed with a piece of a picture of me and Patrick in middle school. That happiness and promise was over. </p><p>My best friend, Patrick, no longer sees me as a best friend. </p><p>And I think that's fucking depressing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Storm Before The Calm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>basically pete beats will and gabe uo then he runs away</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From: williambeckett28@gmail.com<br/>To: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject: sorry </p>
<p>hey</p>
<p>r u okay? im sorry about friday. i thought bringing u over was a good idea. i havent been able to contact u thru twt or text and i got worried :( u havent been to gabe's house either. we're all sorry okay. im sorry, gabe's sorry. please tell me ur ok petey. miss u. </p>
<p>-will</p>
<p>I stared at the email for a few minutes. My fingers inches away from the screen, desperate to type out a reply. I check my notifications. 30 missed calls from William. 15 missed calls from Gabe. 10 unread messages from William. 13 unread messages from will (HSLOT93).</p>
<p>I check the messages. where r u? Home. </p>
<p>are you okay pete? No. No I'm not. </p>
<p>pete i'm at your house. c'mon dude lets talk!! Really? Really Gabe? </p>
<p>Will's texts are a bit more..I guess. I don't know. pete pls i'm sorry No you're not. pete i'm worried where are you???? No you aren't worried. </p>
<p>I'm so tired of this. I check the date. Monday, 26 October. 7:41 A.M. 5 days until Halloween. Fuck this. I was supposed to have a Halloween party with Patrick and the guys. Guess that's not happening. I sigh, plopping my phone down and burying my head into my pillow. I don't care about school. Fuck that shit. All I care about is how Patrick fucking hates me. I hear the door creek open. And I smell the familiar scent. My dad. </p>
<p>He places his hand on my back. "Hey. You alright bud?" I moan. No. </p>
<p>Absolutely fucking not. "It's okay, you can skip school today. I'm not mad at you, Pete." He wouldn't anyway. He pulls me up to lean against his arm. A blank expression plastered on my face. He seems worried. </p>
<p>"Dad."</p>
<p>He looks at me. I feel safe. My dad has that effect on people. Maybe it's because he's a therapist. Yeah. Maybe. Actually, it is. "Yes?" He hums. A smile curled on his lips. I drop my head down to stare at the carpeted floor. All the pieces of paper and pictures of me and Patrick scattered around. Just like how I feel. Shattered. "I don't–I don't think I just have a reason to breathe right now. The person who I loved the most..he's gone. He's fucking gone.." I bawled my eyes out. He simply sighs. "Pete, bud. Don't worry, I'm here. I'm listening." He grabs a box of tissues and passes them to me. "Take these. Carry on. I won't judge." </p>
<p>"He's hanging out with this fucking poser…and he's so happy with him. And he..just got dumped and shit by Hazel and he just doesn't wanna be around me anymore. I-I don't know.." He pulls me into a huge hug. </p>
<p>"That's an absolute shit move. The hell was he thinking?" Wow Dad. Didn't know you swore. "Dad, did...did you just fucking swear?" He laughs and nods. </p>
<p>"Do you think I wouldn't swear?" </p>
<p>I shook my head. Nope. Never in my whole life. </p>
<p>We erupted into a tiny laughter before my mom barged in with a breakfast tray. She places it on my nightstand and sits across from me on my gaming chair. "Your room is in a mess, Mister." I drop back down on the bed groaning. "Yes, I know that Mom. I'll clean it up." I wouldn't because I'd forget. She rolls towards my bed. "You sure will, young man!" She gets off my chair to get back downstairs to drive my sister to school and my dad to work. "Ta-ta, Peep. Love you." She smiled, blowing a kiss towards me. My dad waves goodbye. I'm now left alone with my phone and laptop. My sister's still asleep and Matty's out for his jogs. I love the fact that even though everyone is home, we're all stuck in our stupid tiny bubble of life. Certain times we'd be as a family eating together and shit but most of the time we're just in our rooms doing our own little thing. I guess that's a downside of the current era we are in now. Little human interaction. I grabbed a box from the nightstand drawer and opened it. It was a box of all the letters me and Patrick sent to each other throughout the years every 31 December. From when we were 4 until 16. That's 12 years. I read the oldest one. </p>
<p>
  <em>from petey<br/>to patty</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>roses are red violets are blue what is a friend oh its you</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>december 31 2007</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>hey petey<br/>yeah you r a good friend i love u<br/>patty</em>
</p>
<p>"Jesus.." </p>
<p>
  <em>december 31 2013<br/>hey Patrick <br/>you r the 1975 to my am<br/>pete </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>pete<br/>you're my best friend. man we are literally AWESOME!!!!</em>
</p>
<p>Wait. </p>
<p>Am I crying? </p>
<p>
  <em>dec 31 2018<br/>damn we are best friends forever. <br/>pete</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>12/31/18<br/>oh heck yeaaaaa<br/>patrick</em>
</p>
<p>Fuck. The 2019 one. </p>
<p>
  <em>dcmbr thrty-frst twntynntn<br/>thnks fr th mmrs ptrck. i thnk yr my bst frnd. tll th nd. <br/>xoxo pt</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>12/31/19<br/>yr wlcm. thnk y. yr my bst frnd t. <br/>ptrck.</em>
</p>
<p>"All of these don't fucking matter anymore." </p>
<p>I stood up and went outside. It's fall. It's just a bit more depressing. I set a fire and threw all the letters into the raging pit. That somehow woke my sister up. I hear her feet dragging from behind. Matty's back too. They both stood behind, mesmerised by the anger I possessed through my stance. "Pete..?" My brother called. He's confused. "Why aren't you in school?" He steps closer to take a look at what I was burning. Him and Chris bend down closer to the fire. "Aren't these.."</p>
<p>"The annual Peterick NYE letters?" They said in unison. I nod my head. I took a deep breath of the carbon monoxide. The taste of the rough air rushing through my system. Sandpaper rough. I took out my lighter and lit a cigarette. Let it all out. Let it all in. Serendipity, I suppose. "You know, when you realise the person you were blinded by love with actually despises you, how would you feel?" The toxicity of the nicotine strikes my lungs. A metaphorical scar, a metallic taste. Matty grabs his own cigarette and lights it. He blows the smoke out, squinting his eyes. A tiny cough escapes his throat. "Hurt," he takes another. Christabelle moves slightly left, removing herself from the smog. Matty continued. "Broken. Shattered. Hm, that's all." He blows out another puff. I scoffed. Pulling in deeper, I collapse onto the deckchair. My lungs drowned in the hell that is cigarette smoke. But this is how I physically felt–dirty and toxic. Just an embodiment. "Matty." I flicked the cigarette butt into the ever raging fire I created. "Sometimes the world is just so fucking fake." I pull out my favorite picture of me and Patrick. 8 year old us at the skating rink. I grabbed at it hard, looked at it with everlasting fury. I crumpled it in my palm and off it went into the fire. "Like that. They disappear. When you need them the most." I stand up, lighting another cigarette. It hangs on the edge of my lips. My body faced towards the patio door, I turn my head to face the two other older adults. "I guess you can say I'm at my fucking breaking point." I walk back slowly to my room, the lighted cigarette slowly burning away like my life. I lock myself in my room again, as if I were in a clandestine meeting with my inner beings. I stared up to the poster of Alex Turner on my wall. That gave me some sort of happy feeling. Maybe just because it's Alex. </p>
<p>I check my phone. William and Gabe seem to have no shame. They keep texting me. They'll never give up, won't they? </p>
<p>Gabe: dude are you alright? you aren't in school today. </p>
<p>Will: petey r u ok? </p>
<p>Gabe: i'm worried dude don't do this please. </p>
<p>Will: tell me ur at least at home. </p>
<p>Then, a text from Patrick. </p>
<p>Trick: Why are you so worried about me. Can you stop texting me. Hazel didn't break up with me. We just had a misunderstanding. okay? </p>
<p>Trick: oh. and also, who said I was fucking gay? I don't like dudes. </p>
<p>I hate this. I hate this so much. I knew it. He is a big Hetero. Just a het boy who loves his bitchy ass girlfriend. Who hates his bi best friend. I hesitate to reply. But I reply anyway. </p>
<p>sorry patrick. - pete. </p>
<p>And he doesn't reply. </p>
<p>He never replied.</p>
<p>I was forgettable. I was invisible. </p>
<p>I stayed in my room for the next week. Halloween flew by. It was now November 2nd. Homecoming was a month ago, and I'm still wearing the same sweater as I did last week. By now I had over 200 messages from my friends and teachers, and I've been living off my three family sized boxes of Cheerios. All I did for that week was sleep, eat, weep, write, repeat. With the occasional toilet break. Every two hours my family would try to get me to go out and do shit, but to no avail. I check the time. 3:47 A.M. 4 more hours and the school week starts. I decided to get some shut-eye and actually go to school. "I can't stay like this." To be completely honest, I can. </p>
<p>I drag myself to my car, ignoring my parents and grabbing a sandwich on the way out. Once I hopped in, all I did was a usual turn on the engine, plug in my phone and blasted some classic Adam Lambert. My attempt to energize myself before facing William, Gabe, Joe and Patrick in English class. I had 25 minutes to spare before it started, and I was supposed to be at the theater because apparently the tiny angry Student Councillor Jake called for a briefing of the school rules again. This one freshman did shit and somehow they thought everyone had to listen. They don't really care if we don't go. I lit up a cigarette and rolled down my windows. I turned my head to the side and saw Patrick cuddling Hazel in his car. I felt so sick, but I didn't want to attract his attention, so I threw away my freshly lit cigarette and rolled my windows back up. That's a waste you may say, but I'm not gonna breathe in that shit in my car. My head was tilted slightly to watch Patrick's car, and now his 'new best friend' Ryker Pierce, who transferred from Hollywood Arts High School was in there, giggling about with idiot Blondie Hazel and Patrick. Yeah. That school. The one featured in fucking Victorious. He's quite attractive, tall, and has a quite well built figure. He's in Poet's Acad too but I've not talked to him ever, even though he's been trying to talk to me for the past three months. I kept observing while my car speakers softly played Somebody Else by The 1975. A few tears fell, no doubt, because I associate this song with Patrick now. </p>
<p>It's weird because it's about a break up. But this is technically a break up. A friendship break up. I guess Matty Healy would be proud. I eventually teared up extremely badly, puffy eyes and everything. I don't know how I'd go to Mr. Grey's class. Until I realised that he isn't in school this week, and that Mr. Iero would be our sub. Fuck, he'd be absolutely worried. I hate making people worried. Although that's what I always do. Leave people on a cliffhanger until they drift away. I'm the expert. Sometime sooner or later, all three of them got out of their car to go to class and before they got to see me in my car, I hid below the glove compartment in hopes that they wouldn't see me. After approximately three minutes, I looked up and saw that they were a bit far from where I was, and I only had 10 minutes before class so I lit up another cigarette while I headed to class. My school doesn't really care if you smoke on campus, just don't do it when teachers are around. So I threw my burnt cig butt in the bin before stepping into class. I actively tried to ignore William, Gabe and Patrick during class, until Mr. Iero called on me. "Pete, can you tell the class what you've done over the weekend? It can be anything." He smiled. William, Patrick and Gabe looked at me the entire time. I got a bit nervous but I quickly said that I didn't do much and got it over with. "Thank you, Pete." He says, before scooting over to the teacher desk to grab the worksheets we were due to do. I smile back, looking down again to a piece of paper with Patrick's handwriting. It was a letter he gave to me when he was severely depressed, back when his grandma first passed away. Everytime I get sad, I read that letter. It's the only one I didn't burn yesterday. It has a huge significance to me. I have no idea why but that's why. I shed a tear or two. I remembered everything again. The dinners. The hangouts. Skate-outs. Oreo milk cups. Alex Turner. Sharing shirts. Sneaker shopping. All the things I did with him. Ryker was conveniently sat next to me, and he tapped my shoulder. "Hey," he leans over. I shove the letter back in my pocket. "Are you okay?" I kept quiet. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Besides the point, why the fuck did I decide to go back to school? I should've stayed home and hid in my room. He rubs my back, smiling. "It's okay, I'll give you time." He retreats back to his position to talk to Patrick and my relaxed palm curled up into a fist. Too many tears were brimming in my eyes, I couldn't handle it anymore. I wanted to go home. It wasn't even half past 9, and I already couldn't handle being in the same room as the four of them. So I stood up and ran out to the carpark. Mr. Iero hesitated to run to get me, but I heard William's footsteps so I ran faster. They both chased after me. I felt some sort of adrenaline rush while this happened, but all I focused on was home. Home. Parker. I reached my car and quickly locked the doors. Not even an inch close, William reached for my car door and tried to open them. I burst into tears. My face hid in my palms, covered in the metaphorical shame I carry in my hands. For liking my straight best friend. For trusting my ex and his boyfriend. For trusting. </p>
<p>William's muffled voice seeps through the window gaps. "Pete, are you okay?" My cries get louder, my weeps getting stronger. Mr. Iero knocks on my window. "Pete, do you need me to ring your mom?" No. Don't call her. </p>
<p>"Pete? Please...tell me you're okay?" </p>
<p>Mr. Iero knocks again. "Do you need a return pass? I can let you off." I ignored him and drove off in tears. I couldn't handle it. I drove back home and noticed that no one was in. So I pulled into the garage and walked to the kitchen. I took a few bottles of beer and a medium sized bottle of some hard liquor. I drink, of course I do. I don't drink often, only when it is necessary. And this is the necessary time. I sat in my room, played Sam Smith and Tom Odell on repeat while I down shots and smoke. It makes my throat rough, but I don't really care. I just want to forget everything. Because apparently 17-years of friendship can disappear in just a snap. </p>
<p>And it did. </p>
<p>I was now pissfaced drunk and a mess. I needed to talk to someone, and that someone is definitely Parker. Drunk emailing. A concept, I suppose? </p>
<p>From:brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To:fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject: Can I tlak to youu (?! </p>
<p>Hi Prakre</p>
<p>I'm like super durnk adn sad but I wnna tlak to sm. one so csn I taljs to youuu.. uu</p>
<p>Pete x</p>
<p>I don't even know what I typed. I hope he responds because if not I might get alcohol poisoning. </p>
<p>It's been three hours, now it's 12 and it's about lunchtime. I check William's Twitter. Drunk. </p>
<p>
  <em>HSLOT93:</em><br/>i'm worried for my irl tbh. y'all know who he is, pete ofc. if ur seeing this pete, i hope ur ok. i miss u<br/>im sorry
</p>
<p>I read that tweet, and thought, 'Is he being geniune about this? Is he actually sorry?' </p>
<p>I don't think he is, but seeing how he reacted when I ran out of class in tears, it seemed geniune. It looked like he really was sorry, but I didn't want to take some light bullshit. I just felt like punching Ryker's face. Actually, screw that. I want to punch Will's face too. I looked back at my phone and noticed that I got a message from Parker on Twitter. </p>
<p>
  <em>hi pete!! sorry i cant access my email now, but we can talk. why are you sad? and why did you drink again? :(</em>
</p>
<p>He seems like he wanted to talk to me. He seemed geniune. Like usual. I slowly tried to gather my already drunken thoughts to form my reply. It takes me sometime, too long to be sometime. Again, I'm drunk, and I'm high. Yeah. This is good. </p>
<p>Hey Parkerrr um it's because of trick yk and will and stuff </p>
<p>He responds almost immediately. </p>
<p>
  <em> ( they're so mean to you petey. im here for u okay? i love u.</em>
</p>
<p>He loves…me? Me? Parker likes me? What the fuck? </p>
<p>I take some time to absorb what he just said. He loves me. Someone in my school, who I don't know, just said to me that he loved me. Parker loves me. I love him. And I don't even know who he is. </p>
<p>
  <em>i love you. too.</em>
</p>
<p>After that message, he left me on read, and I suppose it was because lunch break ended. And then I hear my doorbell ring. I clumsily run down the stairs to check the front door camera. It was William, with Gabe behind him and his hands curled around his neck. I opened the door unwillingly, only because I suppose they have been standing there for a long time. "Pete! Are you o-" He pulls in for a hug but I pushed him away. Straight-faced me stared into his eyes. I had another cigarette in my hands, but unlit. I raised my finger to place the stick between my lips and lit it. I blew the smoke onto William's face. "What the fuck do you want?" I snarl, taking another deep puff. William leans back to avoid the smoke. He coughs pretentiously. "Can we come in?" Gabe emerges from Will's back, frowning slightly with an envelope and a bouquet of flowers in his arms. He had the puppy dog stare, you know the one dogs do when they're guilty. I rolled my eyes and opened the door wide enough for them to come in. I trail behind them as I slam the door shut and lock them. Now it was me, him and Gabe in the living room. We were all standing in some sort of triangle formation, with the letter and bouquet of flowers set in the middle coffee table. They both took a seat, grabbing a book from below the table. My eyes target the book. "Put that back." I sternly muttered, my face boiling with anger. William retreats and places the book back where he took it. He takes a deep breath, locking his fingers between each other. "Pete…we came here to apologize." Gabe interrupts William. "Yeah. We really thought it would make things better since…you know. You're his best friend." I whimper, giving them the stink-eye. Really? I grabbed the flower bouquet and broke them in half. William let out a huge gasp. "Pete! What are you doi-" I slam the flowers and stomped on them. William tries to stop me, but I landed a punch on his face. </p>
<p>I grabbed him by his collar, his face only inches away from mine. Gabe was pulling him away, but his grip brakes. "I'm sick of your bullshit. You keep lying to me that Patrick likes me back, and now he doesn't even give a fucking shit about me! It's all your fucking fault!" I pushed him away and quickly gave him another punch. Gabe blocks William and another landed on his face, potentially breaking his nose. He grabs my shirt, his eyes now filled with tears. "Pete, calm down! We came to say sorry! We didn't mean it, I promise!" I got a hold of his arm and twisted it, kicking him off me. He tries to stand up again, but before he got the chance to I punched him again. I then heard my mom opening the door and her terrified scream. </p>
<p>"Pete! What the hell are you doing?" She tried to get a grip on me but I pushed her away, causing her to fall down. I give William and Gabe a few more hard punches before I finally get tired and kick Gabe's already bruised leg as a final move. I was now sweating but now riddled with fear for what I have caused. But I didn't care. I was still pissed off. "You two bastards don't deserve to live happily. You ruined me…" I took the now blood covered envelope and opened it. It was an apology letter from the both of them. It sounded so genuine but fake at the same time. I angrily tore the letter into pieces and threw it at them. They were now laying down on the floor, bruised and bleeding. I scoffed and walked away. Before closing the door, my mom came up to me but as she was saying something I cut her off. "I'm going somewhere. Tell Dad I'm gonna be okay. I love you Mom. Sorry I pushed you." She was tearing, but I didn't acknowledge it. Puffy-eyed, she mumbled, "Pete…I never knew you were this aggressive." She held my hand, begging me to stay. To say sorry to my friends. "Don't go anywhere, Peep. Mom's not mad at you. Dad's gonna be, but he'll understand. Don't leave us, Pete. I love you. We love you. Please?" I smiled, caressing my mom's soft cheeks. </p>
<p>"Sorry Mom. I'm going now. I'll be back before the end of this month. Love you too." I closed the door, and I heard my mom wailing my name. "Pete! Please don't leave!" By now, I was already five feet away from the garage entrance. I saw my dad's and Travie's car drive into the road. He stops for a while and steps out of the car. As I saw him, I sped up and drove away as fast as I could. I heard him call my name, but I drove away heavy-heartedly. I drove out far from Chicago. Far away. I drove into Michigan and headed to where I often find peace. Sleeping Bear Dunes. </p>
<p>Once I found my cabin, I stopped the car, rolled the windows down and breathed in the fresh air. I stayed in the car for a while to settle and calm down. </p>
<p>As I was grabbing my bags, I got a call from my Dad. I decide to answer. </p>
<p>"Pete, where are you?" I stayed silent, crying again. </p>
<p>"Pete? Are you there? I want to talk to you." </p>
<p>I cried even louder. My snot was disgustingly dropping out, and I never felt this broken in my life. </p>
<p>All because of my best friend. </p>
<p>I stutter. "I-I'm…s-sorry…..I..h-had t-to.." </p>
<p>I can hear his frown turning into a smile. "I'm not mad, Peep. I get why you're angry. Sometimes we explode." I sniffle. </p>
<p>"A-are you..n-not mad at me..?" </p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>He wasn't mad at me? I literally almost killed Will and Gabe. </p>
<p>Dad sighs. "Come home. Please." </p>
<p>I struggle to gather my thoughts. I groan, running my hands through my hair. I sniffle again. "Soon, dad. I'll be home. Not now." I hung up the phone and grabbed my bag, walking up to the cabin and unlocking the doors. I let out a sigh of relief as I threw my bag down and locked the door closed. I headed straight to the bedroom and plopped down, smelling the fresh bedding. </p>
<p>I picked up my phone and dialed my friend Jake. "Hey. I'm at the usual." </p>
<p>"Sure. Coming in 5."</p>
<p>I get ready to meet Jake. He's my one friend who lives close to Sleeping Bear Dunes, so I'd often call him over if I stay there. Jake's someone I can fully trust. Other than him. After a few minutes, I heard his car outside my cabin. I straightened up, wiping off my tears and got ready. I got up and opened the door to reveal Jake with a bag of Taco Bell. He smiled at me. "C'mon dude. Let's talk. You look fucking rough." He closed the door and placed the bag on the kitchen counter. We both walked to the living room and sat down. He gave me a kiss on my cheek. That's his way of greeting me. "Let's do this. Bury Patrick far away from the front of your mind." I brace myself for this. I took a deep breath. "I'm ready. </p>
<p>And here is where I let go. Let go of Patrick.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Getting The Clue (Finally, it took you SIX chapters Pete! You fucking idiot)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>basically<br/>sex<br/>fuck<br/>will and gabe<br/>crying</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING FOR SO LONG I PROMISE I'VE BEEN WRITING!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Wake up, sleepy boy." Jake giggles, burying his face on my chest. He places his ears directly on my heart, my stomach filled with butterflies. Jake and I are technically fuck buddies. We like each other, and we're pretty gay. I let out a silent laugh and kissed his head. This is what I call a 'platonionship', where we still sorta like each other but don't consider our thing a relationship. Just a gay friendship with kissing and sex. "Hey Jakey," I propped myself up against the bed frame. "You look cute." We both giggle. He blushes slightly. </p><p>"Can I call you babe?" He jumps up, hugging my pillow. I raise my eyebrows. "What?" Jake leans closer to me, our noses touching. "I asked if I can call you babe." </p><p>I was wondering, should I? I was already in a sort of relationship with Parker, since he considered us a '50% relationship', whatever the fuck that means. But he knows about me and Jake. And he thinks it's no biggie. So I suppose I should say yes. I nod, cupping my hands on his face, squeezing his cheeks. I lean a bit, our foreheads now touching. Jake leans in for a kiss, and we both collapse onto the messy bed, tossing and turning. Our mouths stay connected with small splits in between. I drag my hand down his hips and cusp them. He moans in my mouth. This feels good. Jake does the same, but on my thighs and we take turns to mark each other. After a while, we part. He's panting, covered in sweat. "You're rough, Peep." He stands up to grab the towel, tracing off to the bathroom. He stops, turning around. He looks at me in my eyes. "Let's shower you smelly snob." He threw a towel in my direction and it hit my face. I chuckled. I hear his voice calling from the bathroom. "Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the Third, if I don't see your stinky ass over here in three, I'm dragging you in!" We both laughed and I jumped off the bed and trailed to the bathroom. After a few minutes, we were done and got dressed for the day. I hopped on his back and rode to the kitchen, where we had fun making breakfast. </p><p>"Peep! I told you to put the milk in the egg! Jesus." </p><p>"Jake, I told you I can't fucking cook." He proceeds to throw a dirty handkerchief at me. I dodge. "Ew, dude." He grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him. </p><p>I like it. "You better cook properly, baby." </p><p>I furrow my eyebrows, resting my hand on my hip. "Why's that?" </p><p>"Because you gotta look good at the beach! You can't show up covered in tomato slime." He gestures a disgusted pose. I can't help but smile. Jake pulls me in for a kiss again. "I fucking hate you by the way." That's an ongoing joke we have, telling each other that we hate each other after we fuck or kiss. He pushes me off and grabs his cup of coffee. I follow him with our breakfast in my hands. </p><p>We plopped down on the sofa, our eyes focused on the television screen. It was just an episode of Paternity Court, me and Jake's favorite show. </p><p>Actually, me and Patrick's favorite, but I don't want to think about him. Jake leans on my arm, his hands wrapped around my wrist. "You're always on your phone, Wentzie," Jake blurts. I looked down at him, furrowing my face. "Huh. Is it a problem, Jake?" He gets up and stares at me. </p><p>"No. I was just saying," he says, grabbing a sip of coffee. "Have you been talking to your sweet Parker?" He cheekily raises his eyebrows and laughs. I grunt, hitting him with a pillow. He shouts. "Hey! I was only curious!" Jake props up himself on the sofa comfortably. "Are you guys, like, dating?" He smirks playfully. I physically shrink, resting my head on the pillow and hugging it tighter. I sigh, a tiny smile curled on my lips. Parker told me he liked me. Not gonna lie, I like him too, but I was surprised when he said that. A small laugh escaped my mouth. I shook my head slightly. "Nope." </p><p>Jake scoots closer to me. "You sure?" </p><p>"Yeah. It's mutual." </p><p>He smiles. "Aww." </p><p>I chuckled, grabbing our empty plates. I headed to the kitchen and washed up. Jake stood behind me, placing his arms around my waist, taking me by surprise. "Jake..? What are you doing?" I laugh. He lets go, kissing my cheek. "C'mon. Beach?" I place the last plate on the drying rack and wipe my hands dry. I grabbed his hand and held it. I nod, him grinning and pulling  me out and headed to the beach. The idyllic scenery calmed me down, the sound of the crashing waves making me forget. Jake and I sat down, admiring the beach scenery while we had a conversation about the most randomest of things. While we were talking, I looked to the side to see in the distance, William and Gabe laughing happily. What I noticed was Gabe having a broken leg and William a broken nose. I quickly alert Jake. </p><p>"Psst. Will and Gabe. They're here." </p><p>Jake gasps. "Wha–" </p><p>"Let's go!" I whisper-shout, grabbing Jake and running back to the cabin, trying to not attract too much unwanted attention from them. Once we arrive at the cabin porch, Jake turns and questions me. "They're here?" he hesitantly turns the door knob. "How would they know?" We both walk in, and I'm sweating and trembling. They're here to find me. The words keep repeating in my head. </p><p>They're here. They're here. They're here. </p><p>Jake pushes me against the shut door, and he's in a vertical push-up position. Like the one you'd see in an intense make-out scene. He's furious. I can see how angry he is. Because I almost killed William and Gabe. "Pete," he locks eyes with me, and licks his lips. It's mesmerising. But scary. "Did you do that?" My eyes stare down at his shoes, a feeling of hesitation and guilt. A lump forms in my throat. I suddenly forgot how to speak English. "Erm…<em>Keine Ahnung</em>." Jake scoffs, retracting his hands and crossing them. "Bad boy forgot how to speak English, huh? Hey, <em>du weißt mit wem du sprichst, oder? Ich bin einer, mit dem du dich nicht anlegen willst. Lüg mich nicht an, Peter Wentz.  Du hast das getan, nicht wahr?</em>" I try my hardest to swallow the big lump in my throat. I choke on my words. "<em>Ja.. Ich war es. Ich habe es geschafft, Jake</em>."</p><p>Jake bites his lips, one hand on my shoulder. He leans closer, our noses touching. I feel his heavy, hard breaths. "Why did you do that, naughty boy?" He says. "You're so in love with that idiot, you almost killed your ex and his boyfriend?" </p><p>I nod. "Yeah." I guiltily sigh. "It's just a normal Pete thing to do. Overreact." </p><p>"You almost <em>killed</em> them." </p><p>I sigh again. "I know." </p><p>He sighs too, putting down his arm. He walks away to grab a cigarette. He lights one up and shoves it between his lips. Blowing away the smoke, he sat on the kitchen counter. I walk towards him, grabbing a cigarette as well. We both smoke, and both of our parents don't really care. He smiled slightly when I sat next to him, my hand rested on his lap. "Sorry if I scared you, Wentzie." He blows smoke into my face, giggling. "I was a bit pissed." I chuckle, the cigarette hanging between my fingers. "I get why you'd feel like that, Jake." He places his hand on top of mine, curling it. I blush slightly. "I'm just surprised that you beat people up." </p><p>I breathe in the smoke into my lungs again. "Wait—what?" He laughs, classic Jake fashion. "You're so fucking tiny, ans they're like, Empire State tall. I didn't expect someone your size to do that." He cheekily giggles, flicking the cigarette into the trash can. "You're so fucking weird." I jump off the counter to head into our bedroom. "Don't disturb me, I'm gonna play Call Of Duty." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Okay, gamer boy." We both laugh, and I shut the door. I fell onto the bed and immediately got on my email inbox. I got an email from Parker. </p><p> </p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com<br/>
To: brokenromances@gmail.com<br/>
Subject: miss u babycakes :) </p><p>hi petey</p><p>i miss u, where did you go? i rly do u promise panda, reply to this :) </p><p>-parker. s</p><p>Parker S.? Stump? No. No. Not him. Forget. </p><p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com<br/>
To:fireproofparker@gmail.com<br/>
Subject: Re:miss u babycakes :) </p><p>Parker,</p><p>Hi. Sorry, I've been busy. Anyway, I missed you too Trickbear. Also, are we like, dating? Official? What are we? </p><p>-Pete</p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com<br/>
To: brokenromances@gmail.com<br/>
Subject: Re:miss u babycakes :)</p><p>pete,</p><p>yeah maybe. idk. maybe not. we're just friends w benefits who love eachother? </p><p>parker</p><p>Friends with benefits? Platonic? Hm, I'm not sure either. But one thing's for certain, I like Parker. Okay wait—I don't just like him, I <em>love</em> him. If I tell my brain that, then the doubts will start to come in. What if Parker is actually Patrick? What if Patrick's gay all along? Fuck. I should text him. I miss him. I lost him to that fucking asshole Ryker. And it's only a day after I ran away. I really can't let him go, can I? Seems like I can't. I dropped my phone on the bed and sighed. "I really do miss him." I mutter, staring into the blank, wooden ceiling. Sometimes I really do wonder of Patrick is actually gay, because there is a probability of it actually being true, but I doubt it's more than half. He just gives off the <em>I'm straight, I promise. I like pussy and tits</em> type of vibe. Funnily enough, I also have gotten the <em>I love men. Men!</em> vibe from him. It's mixed, really. I'm not labelling him—well maybe I am, but I wouldn't want to. Maybe he's just unlabelled. He's just Patrick. Patrick who fucks everyone. Patrick who doesn't give a fuck whether you have a dick or a vagina. </p><p>I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found Patrick's number. <em>Last seen 14:12.</em> It's quarter past two in the afternoon. He was online three minutes ago. I sighed again, my fingers dangling inches away from the screen. I scrambled through my mind as I tried to piece together a coherent message for Patrick. I don't want to sound obvious, and I don't wanna sound too rude either. Just in case he favours Ryker over me, which he probably does. I finally mustered up all my courage to call him. My heart beats fast, as if I were running a marathon. I was extremely nervous. Then I hear the sound. He picked up. "Hi..?" A tone of uncertainty lingered in my voice. He stays quiet, but not for long. I hear his familiar voice again. "Hi Pete." he says, I can sense that he's smiling. I guess he's happy to hear from me. "Where did you go?" he asks, coughing. Oh shit. He probably knew what I did. I layed there, on the bed, in a random cottage in Michigan. I don't know what I'm doing. I always don't. Because I'm Pete Wentz. I always do stupid shit. Smoke weed. Smoke cigs. Fuck my bestfriend. Have a crush on a friend. Almost murder my friends. That's what I always do. </p><p>I decide to clear up the silence. "Um. M-Michigan?" </p><p>"Oh. I heard about what you did to Will and Gabe." </p><p>I started to tremble. I slowly delivered my message. "It's all because of you I guess. I..I don't even know why I decided to call you. You hate me, Patrick." I started to cry. Faucet snot crying. He sighs, and I can hear his bedsheets crunching. "No, I don't Pete. I-I promise!" That's bullshit. </p><p>"You fucking hate me, Trick! You fucking do! You replaced me with that douche, and just forgotten about me and the others? Huh? What's that about?" I paused, taking a breather. I finished my sentence shakily. "There's no use in t-trying anymore, I should just give up! I can't do it anymore. I love—nevermind. I already know you won't." </p><p>"Pete..I-I..don't ha—" I hung up and threw my phone down onto the floor. And I cried again. I always cry. I'm such a loser. The door slowly creaked open and I flicked my middle finger toward Jake. He ignored and the door slowly shut. I felt Jake's hand rub my back, coaxing me. "Petey, what happened? Your phone's cracked." I ignored him and continued crying. He pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. </p><p>"Don't cry, please. It makes me feel so broken to see you cry." he frowns. I sigh. </p><p>"I'm tired of this." He simply smiles. "It's okay. You have Parker." </p><p>I look up from his chest. "I think I know who he is. Patrick." Jake widened his eyes. "What?" </p><p>I moved away from his chest and wiped my eyes. "I said, I have a huge feeling that Parker is Patrick. He likes me back." </p><p>He shakes his head. "You're fucking joking me, right?" </p><p>"I'm positive that Parker, the dude on Twitter from the same school as I am, same grade and town, and who's gay and has a crush on me, is Patrick Martin Stump all along." </p><p>"I know what I'm gonna do after this." </p><p>And what am I gonna do, you ask? Stay here for three more weeks and come back. And ask Parker to meet me. I don't care anymore. I want to know if he's Patrick.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Inching Closer and Closer but Still Oblivious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>dumb ass pete</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To:brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject: an inhaler shirt? </p><p>hi peteeee<br/>um idk when ur coming back to school but i left an inhaler shirt hanging on your locker thats a surprise for u when u get back home</p><p>i cant wait for u to see it :D i also bought u a cure album for good measure </p><p>-parker</p><p> </p><p>From:brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To:fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject: Re:an inhaler shirt? </p><p>Parker, </p><p>Hey. Thanks for the shirt. I'll be sure to check it out when I get back. Also, which album did you buy for me? I have Bloodflowers, Paris, Wish, Disintegration and Faith. I hope you bought none of those ones because I also have those on vinyl and cassette. </p><p>Can I ask you a question? I don't know if you're ready yet to meet me because we've only been talking for four months. But I'm sure I know who you are. I feel like we should meet someday. This feels so spontaneous, I'm sorry. But when you're free, we can meet. If you're ready, that is. </p><p>I don't know. I have no idea what I'm doing. </p><p>-Pete x</p><p> </p><p>From:fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To:brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re:an inhaler shirt? </p><p>pete<br/>i bought you kiss me kiss me kiss me. cost alot of money because it's mint and it also came w the cassette. thank me later</p><p>yknow after 4 months of talking i feel like. we should meet. but not so fast. maybe christmas? i'm ready but i don't think you're ready because you've been expecting me to be the one you wanted to be. i'll check my schedule. </p><p>in the meantime, stream better by zayn :p</p><p>-parker </p><p> </p><p>From:brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To:fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject: Re:an inhaler shirt?</p><p>Parker, </p><p>You're someone I expect? Wait. Is your sister's name Scarlett? Do you sing? Are you in Choir? Do you live on St. John's Way, close to the Target? </p><p>I'm really sure you're who I think you are. </p><p>-Pete x</p><p>From:fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To:brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject: Re:an inhaler shirt? </p><p>pete<br/>the answers are: yes, yes, yes and yes. </p><p>good. you already know me. </p><p>-parker </p><p> </p><p>From:fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To:brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject: Re:an inhaler shirt? </p><p>also. interesting that you never picked up the clues. you're really an idiot but you're my idiot. </p><p>-parker</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>anyway he comes home and finds out patrick broken up with hazel</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I grab my backpack and head out to the door, but Jake grabs my arm and turns my body toward him. He cups my face and leans in for a kiss. It was deep and passionate, but short. He pulls me away, smiling. "I'll miss you, idiot." We both chuckle. "I'll miss you too," I say, shoving my cigarette packet into my jean pocket. "Visit me in Illinois someday." He chuckled, a tiny smirk forming on his maroon-coloured lips. "I will, don't worry." He grinned. </p><p>I turn the doorknob and there the door opens. My car parked right in front of the cabin. I walk out of the cabin and towards my car. Jake trails behind me to my car. Once I opened the car door, he pulled me into another kiss. "That's a goodbye kiss." I blush. "Thanks," I reply. I get into my car and shut the door. I rolled down the window to get a word with him before I left. "If he's actually Patrick, you owe me some LSD." He backs off a bit, raising an eyebrow. "Okay..weird but I'll get it." We both laughed before I said goodbye to him. As I drove out of Sleeping Bear Dunes, I felt so light and that all I could think about was now how Patrick might be Parker and he might actually be. The feelings are coming back, and I have a good feeling about it. Hetero Patrick isn't so Het after all. I kept smiling to myself while Inhaler blasts through my speakers. It took me about two hours to reach home, and once I parked my car, my mom came out running toward me. She immediately pulled me into a hug. "Oh Peep, you're finally back home!" She smiles and gives me a peck on the cheek. I saw my dad, Matty and Chrissy standing behind my mom, looking relieved that I'm back home. After my mom gave me a huge hug, I walked behind to talk to my dad. </p><p>He places a hand on my shoulder. “Pete, I'm glad you're back home.” I grin slightly, dropping my head down. “Yeah. Um—can I, you know, go up to my room? Please?” He nods, sighing. “We gotta talk though, Peter. Whenever you're ready.” He paused, looking at me. “I won't force you to talk today. We'll take some time.” He finishes before he walks into the garage store to grab the toolbox. I head into the living room and up to my bedroom, where I again lock myself inside and write more blog posts. Today I decided to blast some Years &amp; Years because I feel especially good. It's been awhile since I played Years &amp; Years, and that tells. I scrolled through another account that students made, but now it's a Twitter account named 'Ravenwood Struggles' or rhstruggles. They also do confessions, and all of them are anonymous, so no one has to worry about their identity and secrets. I took note of the most recent one, and being curious, I decided to read it. </p><p>
  <em>rhstruggles:<br/>
cool confession - matteo<br/>
I have a crush on my best friend, and he probably already noticed. To indirectly tell him, me and my friends devised a plan for me to disguise myself as someone else and in the end exposing myself. It's going well but I'm scared he would reject me. - Anonymous.</em>
</p><p>Wait. That sounds so much like me and Patrick. This is so surreal. It's getting closer. Patrick is Parker. I've been in denial this whole time. But what about Hazel? </p><p>What about douchebag poser Ryker? What happened to them? Did he dump Hazel, or did Ryker break them up? I'm jumping into conclusions again. God I'm getting so happy so early. I'm getting my hopes too high. I should calm my damn tits. Why am I getting so confident that Patrick wants me? Parker might've been lying to me with those questions. But then, he said that he's been giving out clues but I was too slow to catch them. I'm really conflicted here—I don't know what to believe. Should I believe him, or should I just go with my gut instinct and not believe him? I think I should just go with possibilities. He <em>might</em> be gay, but he also might be straight as a curtain rod. To do some digging, I decided to go to Patrick's Tumblr. It didn't take me much time to stumble upon something interesting about Hazel and Ryker. </p><p>
  <em>Post by nervousbreakdance on 11/26/20<br/>
I broke up with Hazel today. We are on good terms, and I told her that we can be friends. l'm officially single again. As for Ryker, he was the cause of all this. He was only friends w/ me to date Hazel. I noticed it and told her. We were close friends, but until he blackmailed me, me and Hazel decided to drop him. Now he's in detention and can possibly be suspended from school. I definitely feel better, All I have to do now is, well, find someone that I've already found. They're just hiding. I love them. They love me too, but they've been pretty oblivious. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hey, I know you're reading this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Patrick</em>
</p><p>Could it be me? Possibly it isn't. I'm pretty sure it isn't me. But, he could've told me through text? Then I realised that I blocked his number. I unblocked his number and out came over 50 text messages from him. "Oh God," I thought to myself. "I regret burning those letters." </p><p>
  <em>Pete, I broke up with Hazel. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I did love her, but it faded quickly. Because I met someone along the way. I fell in love with him. It felt like infatuation—but I wasn't right. It was reciprocal. He loves me back; just that he hasn't realized yet. I'm not sad per se, but I just felt like telling you. I felt bad for ghosting you. I'm sorry Pete. I still love you, platonically I guess, but you're still my friend. My best friend till the end. - Patrick. </em>
</p><p>Fuck me, and I mean literally. Jesus. He's sorry. And I can feel it. There's this guilt hanging above me; I should've not acted on impulse. I should've not burned those letters or torn the pictures. Ugh. I hesitate to reply. I took literally 2 hours to only type out a smiley face and a sorry. </p><p>Spot on! </p><p>Literally, spot-fucking-on! </p><p>“Pete?” I heard my dad's voice from outside. He turned the knob and the door opened wide. There he was, stood like one serious dad. He had a tiny smile plastered on his face. “Are you free to talk now?” He pauses, seemingly to notice my surprisingly messy bed. I look down to stare at my bed, then back up at him. I shrug. “Um—sure.” </p><p>He walks slowly into my room as he closes the door behind me. He sits beside me, unknowingly on my 4-year old BABYMETAL poster I bought when they played at Wembley. I don't have to worry because I bought two. Dad then clears his throat, telling me that he's ready to talk. Or so in this case, nag. I love these. Totally do. “Where did you go, first of all?” I knew this question would be the first one he'd ask. I sigh. “Somewhere,” I blurt. He tries to roll his eyes in a way that I wouldn't notice. But OBVIOUSLY, I would. He sighs.“C'mon, Pete. Stop messing with me.” He gets up and takes the poster that he sat on and rolls it. “Where did you go?” I smirk playfully. “Yellowstone.” Furrowed his eyebrows. Huh. He's confused. “Yellowstone?” he repeats. I nod. “Yup.” It clicks in his head and he hums. I didn't expect him to accept that white lie. Hm, maybe I should lie more. </p><p>No, Pete, you shouldn't. Lying is a bad thing. Lying can get you beat up. So better not lie. </p><p>On the other hand; is that all he wanted to ask? As I pondered, my dad inquired again. “Who were you with?” Uh oh. I did not think this through. All the while I was in Sleeping Bear Dunes, I never posted Jake on my Snapchat, neither did I post on my Instagram as well. So no one knew I was with Jake. Except for Travie, I told him everything. I quickly thought of a lie again. This feels wrong, but I have to do it. “No one. Just one.” He tilts his head. Dad eyebrow furrowing makes a comeback, and he's skeptical of what I just said. “Are you sure?” I nod, fake assuring him that I was alone in Yellowstone. I plastered a smile to make it more convincing, and it seemed like it worked! Hell yes, and I mean hell yes! I sigh of relief internally, knowing that he would believe my pile of while lies I just spat out. He gives me a smile, getting off the bed to head back to his office. “Anything wrong; just tell me, okay? Dad loves ya, bud.” And there he went out the door. Back I was in my room, alone, with my laptop and my personification of my emotions having the 30th clandestine (can you tell that's my favourite word) meeting of the month. I grabbed my laptop and proceeded to log into my poetry Tumblr blog. Here we go; emotion tsunami! </p><p>
  <em>Post by poetofthemidwest on 11/30/20<br/>
hi. its pete. sorry for disappearing for so long. it's not like it isn't a normal occurrence. no, i didn't get sent back to the glue factory—rather i was away by myself, trying to chuck away whatever thought left about patrick i had out the house of memories in my head. turns out i can't forget him. he's a stain in my mind and he's permanent. you're a scar in my head, stump. it's not like you would reciprocate my feelings for you anyway. besides the point, i feel good to be back and i cant wait for the mess that will be christmas. see ya<br/>
xoxo peteypie</em>
</p><p>That was a good one. </p><p>Just kidding. That was horrible. The usual Pete 'the loser' Wentz spitting shit<br/>
about his feelings towards his may-not-be-so-hetero best friend. I bet everyone who follows me there would unfollow the second they see that. They're probably sick of my bullshit. Sick of my gay bullshit. Of course they would, I often write about how I feel as a bisexual dude who uses he/they pronouns, and likes to paint his nails. How my music taste is weird. How I feel as an outsider despite being really popular in school, if I can be called that. I moan, my face in my pillow. It's currently 4:27PM, I guess I should get some shut-eye before school. I'm probably sleeping until 6AM. I'm definitely oversleeping tonight. </p><p>Probably at around midnight, I get awoken by my phone blasting messages and calls. I groan, dragging my arm toward my phone and holding it in front of me. I answer the call. “Hello..?” Groggily, I greeted. A voice shouts from the other side. He sounds excited, and damn right he is. “Pete!” I hear them say. “It-it's William!” I immediately sprung open my eyes when I heard his name. William? </p><p>“I heard that you're back! I missed you, Pete!” I could sense that he's smiling widely on the other side. I stay silent. “I'm not mad at you, by the way,” he sighed, his bedsheets crumpling. I'm quite doubtful about that. “Are you sure?” </p><p>He hummed. “Yup.” </p><p>I ask again, to make sure I'm not dreaming. “Are you really sure? I mean—I almost killed you.” A soft chuckle escaped my mouth. </p><p>“It's fine. I don't really care.” </p><p>“Mhm. Totally.” </p><p>We both laughed. “No seriously—you're not mad? At all?” Again, a yes is what he answered with. I sat up and hugged my pillow. I rest my chin on it, and sighed. “Okay then. I'll see you tomorrow at school? The usual?” He replied swiftly. “Hell yeah! See ya bud. Cheers.” he greeted before hanging up. I threw my phone on the charging pad before falling into my bed. I closed my eyes, and thought about all the things that had happened for the past two months. Chaos is one word to describe it. Mesmerising, may I add. It's beautiful, and ugly at the same time. Just like my life. I love it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Closer... Yes We're Getting Closer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>yeah</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Next day in school, I met William and Braxton at my usual car spot. We smoked for a while before a familiar face appeared. Patrick, and he's with Hazel sharing a drink. They both were giggling as they walked toward us. I nudged William. “Psst. They look close.” William just laughed it off. “Hey, can't they be besties? Is that wrong?” Braxton laughed too. He enters our conversation. “Besides, Ryker was the bad guy. Hazel was just mean because he threatened her. Eh, no use talking about that douche anyway.” Just in time, Patrick arrived. He reached out for my shoulder and rested his arm on it. He smiles at the look of my face. He's glowing. Fuck, I'm trying not to blush already. Patrick turned to look at me, unlocking his arms from Hazel's and handing his drink to her. Our eyes met, and I could already feel the chemistry. This felt gay as hell. Gayest thing in Ravenwood. Drama. </p>
<p>“Hi,” he whispered. I blush. “Hi.” </p>
<p>Is that our trademark word? Are we Simon and Bram, but the weird poet and choir kid version? Whatever this is, I'm liking it. You would too. “So..uh..yeah. What's up?” He's trying his best not to blush. Nevertheless, he failed. Obviously. Because he's a damn adorable little puppy. God damnit, caught feelings again. I scratched my head. “N-not much.” He nodded, humming. “Cool,” he muttered. “Do you wanna hang out skating after school with Brax, Bri and Ryan?” Skating? He's a skater boy now? Damn. That's awesome, because I skate. My dad taught us skating, apparently because he was skating champion in Chicago when he was my age. Apparently. I raised an eyebrow, thinking about it. He leaned closer to me and whispered, “Or it can be, maybe me, you and Bri?” he winked. “Or even just us?” he giggled, leaning back and taking a sip from his drink. Hazel, Braxton and William could only afford to stare at us. </p>
<p>“Say yes,” Hazel voiced. “C'mon, Brennan, don't lose a chance! Brush up on your skills.” Braxton playfully winked. </p>
<p>“Yeah, dude. I can't join, but I'd say yes.” </p>
<p>I sighed, nodding my head. At that moment, everyone shouted in excitement. Braxton, William and Hazel jumping around, looking like a group of girls at a One Direction concert. “Woo-hoo! Peterick, my OTP, finally going on a fucking date!” Braxton exclaimed. I rolled my eyes, punching his arm. “Fuck off,” I spat jokingly. We all erupted in laughter, before heading off to class. We had all our classes together today so we hung out until lunch when we had our electives, which me, Patrick and Briana didn't have today so we all headed to the skate park nearby. When we arrived, we were surprised to see no one but us here. It's a Monday, and often there would be people from the community college nearby skating and the Chicago-Forrest High School kids smoking weed out here. But today, on a cool Fall day, it was just us. So we took the opportunity to hang out and took advantage of all the space. </p>
<p>“Let's race,” Briana said. “Whoever gets first through all of these gets a Reese's.” She took a look at both of us. “Is that a deal?” Patrick and I looked at each other before nodding, and there started our race. </p>
<p>It was 15 grueling minutes of doing every trick I knew in this world, just to emerge last. Patrick first, Briana second. He seemed really happy to win. “Fuck yeah!” he exclaimed. “I won, so where's my Reese's?” Bri laughed and handed it to him. Patrick opens the pack and splits both cups in half. He handed us the spilt pieces. “Here,” he smiled. “Take these.” Briana grabbed it and threw it in her mouth. She moaned. “Gosh, these are so freakin' delicious!” We both giggled. </p>
<p>“You're cute, Bri,” I chuckled. She blushed slightly. “You're cuter, Wentzie.”</p>
<p>Patrick intervenes, his arm in between us. “I think you two are both cute. No comparing.”</p>
<p>“Huh. Or you’re really meaning,” Briana points at me, and I get confused. “He's cuter?” Patrick rolled his eyes, grabbing his phone. He continued the conversation while he scrolled through his playlist. </p>
<p>“Shut up, Bri. He's cute too, but you're also cute. Both of you are cutie-patooties. So you shouldn't compare.” </p>
<p>He finally settled on Everybody Talks. He smiled, laying down. Me and Bri followed suit. We all looked up at the golden sky. What beautiful scenery. I sighed, turning my head to face Patrick. There I was, staring at his beautiful face. I was mesmerised. He's so pretty. I get lost in his eyes. “What're you looking at, Petey?” he winked. </p>
<p>I blushed, turning my head around and back to face the sky. “N-nothing,” I said. I'm lying obviously. I was staring at you. </p>
<p>“Don't act like you weren't staring at me.” </p>
<p>I giggled. “I-I was,” Patrick scoffed. “You're pretty, that's what I have to say.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he said. “You're always staring at me.” </p>
<p>He noticed. Yeay. Totally excited. “It's like, you have a crush on me?” I turned my head to face his and furrowed my brows.</p>
<p>Pretending to be shocked. Fails miserably. “W-what? N-no! Of course.. not!” I laughed it off. I'm obviously lying here. Patrick chuckled. “It's obvious, Wentz,” he smiled at me. “I don't mind, actually.” </p>
<p>He seems to mind, truthfully saying. Patrick Stump always notices whenever you're suspicious. He's literally the most useful person when it comes to noticing miniscule things. Like how you walk, talk and stuff like that. He'd make a good secret agent. Agent Stump. Good one. </p>
<p>“Guys,” Briana whined. “I have to head home. Dad's messaging me.” She's pouting. Me and Patrick frowned. She gave us a hug before taking her skateboard and headed back to her house. That left me and Patrick alone in the skate park. I looked at Patrick, and now he's looking at me too. He's starting to blush. We both chuckle. “Um—sorry about that weirdly rude message that one time. That wasn't me. It was Ryker.” he said. “Knocked me and Hazel out, told Will we were fighting and got you there. Sorry.” What? </p>
<p>It wasn't him? “O-oh,” I said. “So what I did was based on something completely untrue?” He nodded. </p>
<p>That means I beat up William and Gabe over fucking nothing. They were lied to like me. We were all lied to. And I guess they were quick to forgive because they didn't know too. Dang it. No wonder William and Gabe didn't see what I did as bad. </p>
<p>Funny. </p>
<p>“Anyway, do you wanna go to DQ?” Patrick asked. I obviously nodded. We hopped off the ramp and grabbed our boards. Patrick pulled my shirt and he was already on the board, rolling off. “Hey, who loses pays!” He laughed and there he went. I rolled my eyes, whining. “Fine, I'm gonna be first, Stump!” He giggled, flicking his middle finger at me. Classic Patrick. </p>
<p>Panting, we threw our boards on the sidewalk next to the Dairy Queen. “You pay, Pete.” he smirked, pointing on my chest. I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I said. “It's getting late so you better make it quick.” </p>
<p>Without wasting any time, he pulled me in the DQ and threw me down on the seats. He tossed his wallet and reached into my pockets. “Hey, what are you doing?” Patrick grabbed my wallet and took out $20. He tossed it back at me, smiling. “How would I pay for the food then, idiot?” I can see he's trying not to blush. Ahhhhhhhh! Does he like me? Does he!? Oh my GOD!</p>
<p>I observe him from behind, as I adore him. I sound fucking creepy, but I have a stupid crush on him. I'm so stupid for him (enter Waterparks reference here). Seriously, incredibly stupid for Patrick. Is that much of a surprise? He's so pretty. I silently crack a smile as he walks back towards our table. My eyes track his movements; smooth and articulate. He always is. He giggled, pinching my arm. I snap back into reality. “You seem in love there, Wentz.” he joked. I guess he knows I'm in love with him. It's quite obvious right? Yeah, I think so too. Too obvious I think. He gets the memo, and I bet he gets it very well. I'm not just in love, I adore him. I don't know how to describe it—It's akin to finding the perfect song. You simply cannot describe how it makes you feel, but you know it's perfect. I grabbed my Blizzard and there I devoured it. </p>
<p>“Do you know Waterparks? Like, the band?” Is he really asking me this? Am I dreaming? He likes Parx? </p>
<p>“I love their music, dude!” There he smiles again. God I hate his smile. “Yeah, I met Awsten on Thanksgiving break when I was in Houston. I asked him for a few autographs and a video for you!”</p>
<p>“Damn it, he's so fucking adorable.” That's in reference to Awsten, not Patrick by the way. Patrick nodded in agreement. Enthusiastically, may I add. </p>
<p>“I know! God, if he wasn't het, I'd totally date him.” Did I just hear that? </p>
<p>Patrick immediately realised and told me to forget what he said. Oh am I not going to. </p>
<p>“Oh, um, I gotta go. See ya, Trick.” I noticed it was getting dark and I know my dad would be back around this time, so I had to go. Patrick smiled and we did our handshake. Off I go, on my skateboard while eating my Blizzard. </p>
<p>I like this feeling. </p>
<p>Once I got home, I threw my cup and ran upstairs. I grabbed the tote bag that Parker gave me with the Inhaler shirt and Cure CDs. It had a note in it. </p>
<p>
  <em>Meet me at the Mall after Xmas. 27th 10am. See you :)</em>
</p>
<p>He wants to meet me? Oh god. </p>
<p>I'm so nervous already. </p>
<p>I should email him tonight. </p>
<p>I think I'm dreaming. Am I dreaming? Parker wants to meet me? This must be a fucking joke. </p>
<p>I'm gonna email him. </p>
<p>I need to ask him about what the fuck is going on.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. See You Sunday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>email time</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject: Meeting? No? Yes? Maybe so? </p><p>Parker, </p><p>I took the tote bag home today, thanks for the goodies :) </p><p>I saw you left a note for me? You wanna meet up on the 27th at the mall apparently. God I hope I don't fuck it up. </p><p>Is it true though? Do you REALLY wanna meet me? Like seriously? </p><p>Please answer. I need to know. </p><p>Pete pumpkin eater</p><p>------</p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re:Meeting? No? Yes? Maybe so? </p><p>pete</p><p>yeah i do wanna meet you. i'm ready to. </p><p>to be honest i was expecting you to come up to me at school but you didnt </p><p>i was there all along you didn't notice lol</p><p>see you sunday ;) </p><p>- parker</p><p>------</p><p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re:Meeting? Yes? No? Maybe so? </p><p>Parker, </p><p>You were there all along? Were you stalking me?! </p><p>------</p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re:Meeting? Yes? No? Maybe so? </p><p>pete</p><p>hehe lol guess cheeky bear ;)) </p><p>parker</p><p>------</p><p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re:Meeting? Yes? No? Maybe so? </p><p>Parker, </p><p>Aw c'monn!!! Are you joking right now? &gt;:(</p><p>Peep </p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re:Meeting? Yes? No? Maybe so? </p><p>pete </p><p>i'm not telling youuuu!!! ;))))) </p><p>parker </p><p>-----</p><p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject: Re:Meeting? Yes? No? Maybe so? </p><p>Parker, </p><p>JUST TELL MEEEEEEEE</p><p>peepterrrrr</p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject: Re:Meeting? Yes? No? Maybe so? </p><p>you'll have to see sunday ;) bye peep tataaaaa :pp</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Filler Chapter~~~~~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>this is a filler. yeah.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey.” I hear a soft voice from behind my locker door. I slammed it shut to see Braxton smiling wide with Gabe behind him. He waved at me. “Hey Brax, were you waiting for me to finish packing?” He nods excitedly, Gabe following suit. I'm confused—why are they so excited? Within the span of a millisecond, Braxton pulled me away. I don't know where we're going, but we're headed to the Main Block. I guess the choir has something up. Him and Gabe pulled me along the corridors as fast as they could, as if they didn't want me to miss something. I have no idea what these two are up to. Mischief, I suppose. As we near the auditorium, they both tossed their bags, and somehow mine too along with Gabe's crutches, down on the floor and off we went in. He quickly got us sat down in the dark hall. I don't see anyone else here, as of yet. The seniors and sophomores are having lunch, the freshmen are starting to fill up the auditorium and the rest of the juniors are nowhere to be seen. Gabe's so excited he's fidgeting. I nudged his arm. “Psst.” I mumbled. “What's going on?” He shrieked quite softly, his cheeks glowing red. “It's Arts Day! How did you forget?” Oh shit. Arts Day. </p><p>What is Arts Day, you ask? </p><p>Arts Day is that one day all the arsty clubs do performances. That means the choir, band, Dance Club, Poet's Acad, Debate Society and the theater kids do stuff. Gabe can't dance, and Braxton isn't included in this year's performance somehow. William's broken nose has healed so he's all up for the show. While we were talking, we heard the long-awaited voice of the Student Council president, Arlo Emrick. His name is cool, and supposedly, he's part of a legit vampire clan, whatever that is? “Hey Freshies! It's YOUR Student Council President, Arlo!” That elongated, annoying continuation of the last letter, followed by the Justin Bieber concert-esque screams. I can hear the seniors and sophomores flooding in, and of course the seniors are laughing like how they always are. “Shut the fuck up, Arlo!” yelled a senior. The juniors started to make noise as they got in as well. “You shut up, Viotto! Assholeee!” that was followed by the loudest laughter ever I've heard. Even Arlo was laughing. He was pulled away by Mrs. Goodwall. “Ahem. Raiders, I suppose you forgot how to behave in the auditorium.” She had her usual straight bland face. Boos filled up the tense air. </p><p>Arlo steps up and whispers  in her ear, and he takes over again. “Um, sorry for that guys.” He awkwardly smiles. Arlo started the event proper and everyone got excited. The seniors are yelling and throwing things with the freshmen doing the same, and there goes the choir. William, Patrick, Harper and another girl walked up to the three microphones. She introduced herself as Ronnie, and she led the whole choir. Patrick grabs the microphone. I get nervous. He cleared his throat. “Um, hi.” he starts. “I'm Patrick, and I lead the Alto. My friend William leads tenor, and Harper soprano. We have a surprisingly good lineup of songs today. I'll leave that to William.” He passes it to him. He's so nice even doing that. </p><p>William tells us they'll perform Apocalypse, Mr Loverman and Bohemian Rhapsody. Interesting choice. “So, I hope you all enjoy the show!” Patrick closes their introduction and they retreat back to their positions and off they started with the first song. It was magical—Gabe was already crying before William started his part. The harmonies, too. I could hear Patrick so clearly, and his voice was the loudest. It was angelic. I love it. By the end of the first song, the seniors were clapping and the juniors were screaming. I was smiling as wide as I could. I was so proud of Patrick. So started the second song, Mr Loverman, which was actually sung by William for the first two verses. He said something before he started singing. “Um, so, this song is for my boyfriend Gabe.” he blushed. The whole auditorium aww-ed. “I hope you like it, Gabey.” He shoved his face in his palms before continuing. As the song started, me and Brax couldn't help but notice how Gabe was absolutely a wreck. Snot-dripped, tear covered crying Gabe. He's touched by what William did, and of course he is—William is the most romantic person in the world. I've seen his dumb tricks and I can assure you he landed several dudes along the years but I've never seen him so content and happy til he found Gabe. They're made for eachother and it's really obvious. As the second chorus came to an end, the whole choir came in and it was powerful. The emotion it gave off was indescribable. God, the chills were definitely there. I saw Viotto the asshole crying. I saw Ryker, in the corner crying too. Man, I guess the power collective really does make even the toughest assholes cry. </p><p>The song ends with an immensely loud round of applause, which gives us the bridge to the next song, Bohemian Rhapsody. This one was energetic. Everyone was dancing and screaming out the lyrics, the teachers joined too and it was such a contrast from the previous vibe. It describes Ravenwood perfectly. Sad, chaotic, lawless, liberal. The choir moment ends with all four stepping front and bowing, and they give way to the Dance Club. They were doing some cool TikTok dance thing. It was fun, but we found it a bit boring after the absolutely amazing Poet's Acad performance. So of course, me, Brax, Gabe and Briana (she wanted to follow too) sneak out. We headed to the Poet's Acad room to put our bags and meet up with Will and Patrick. We see them hanging outside the door to the backstage, drinking some Starbucks their conductor gave. I sat next to Patrick and we formed a sort of circle. Patrick's hand was resting on my thigh and I noticed how he was staring at my Inhaler shirt that Parker gave me. </p><p>“What'cha staring at, Patrick?” I say, grabbing his drink from him to capture his attention. He groans, reaching for his drink. “Give me my fucking drink, Pete! C'mon!” I chuckled, shaking my head.</p><p>“Not until you answer my question.” I smirked. He rolled his eyes, snatching the drink from my head. “Your shirt,” he blurted. “I like it. That's what I was staring at.” </p><p>“My online friend Parker bought it for me. Apparently he's in our year. I don't know what he looks like, though.” </p><p>Patrick physically shrinked. “O-oh. Cool.” </p><p>I raised an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong?” He quickly shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. That's weird. Meanwhile Gabe and William have been kissing for the last five minutes. I call out to Briana and Braxton. I pull them closer. </p><p>“Is Patrick okay? Why did he act like that when I mentioned Parker?” Both of them shrugged. “Dunno. I'm not him, how would I know, bud?” Briana said. I sighed and looked back at Patrick. </p><p>“Maybe he knows who Parker is?” voiced Braxton. Briana seemed to agree. </p><p>“Probably,” I bit my lip. “Guess he's a bit awk.” I got up and pulled Briana and Brax. We decided to head to my car and smoke before we wanna leave and head to Taco Bell. As we were opening the door, we heard two voices from behind. “Hey, don't leave us behind!” William shouted. I giggled and held the door open for them. I didn't see Patrick anywhere. “Where's Patrick?” I asked. William wiped the sweat off his forehead and pushed me to walk. </p><p>“He's going home. He's tired.” He replied, still pushing me toward my car. I unlocked and landed in the car seat. Braxton passenger, and the three others in the back. Briana took a deep breath of my air freshener. She said she liked it, and my car in general. The multiple hanging felt ribbons and chains, and the Alex Turner plushie hanging from the top of the car really tells you that you are indeed in my car. This was my childhood car before my sister Riley was born. It's natural that my dad gave this car to me as a gift. It's a family car. </p><p>(What the hell am I saying, Awsten? Can we get to Taco Bell already? I'm starving.)</p><p>We got to Taco Bell and we immediately ordered our huge feast, with all of us chipping in to pay. Briana, naturally was the most excited for this. She eats alot, and I'm not joking. I just wonder how she keeps so fit even after eating so much food. I guess that's why she's on the school football team too. </p><p>We spent ten minutes eating and another ten listening to William practice some choir song, and he performed a whole show. He was running around with the score in his hand, being dramatic as ever while the three of us laughed our brains out. Gabe was having the most fun as he was attempting to follow William with some harmonies, and running (sort of) alongside William. It was one hell of a show, and definitely something we have witnessed before. Braxton on the other hand, was busy recording it and giving his ever so insightful commentary. “Thank you!” William bowed. The Taco Bell was filled with cheers and applause. Even the staff and manager were clapping. Him and Gabe quickly returned to our chairs and continued eating. The building slowly eased and got quieter. It was back to the peaceful Taco Bell it was. “Dang, I wish I could do that with my boyfriend.” I sighed. William giggled and pulled Gabe closer to his chest. “Aw, Petey, you can do that with Patrick! He'd be down, for sure.” he cheekily winked. A soft laughter soon followed. Brax and Bri found that funny too. </p><p>“Are you sure, bud?” I asked. William hummed. “'Course.” </p><p>Braxton interrupted with a question. “What are y'alls plans for Christmas Break?” I quickly mentioned Parker. </p><p>“I'm meeting Parker this Sunday!” Everyone got excited. “Pete's getting a boyfriend!” Braxton and Briana chimed. </p><p>“Guys, doesn't mean I'm gonna bang him the first time I meet him.” I rolled my eyes. They both giggled. Gabe taps my shoulder. </p><p>“What if it was Patrick, what would you do then?”</p><p>I furrowed my eyebrows. “Kiss him, probably.” </p><p>Gabe and William seemed to approve of the idea. Especially Gabe. “Ooh, Petey getting that lip action!” I blushed slightly. </p><p>God, I'm so excited for this break. Christmas, and meeting Parker? I'm nervous. But also excited. </p><p>I love Parker, and I will do anything to love him forever. I've never felt this way in a long time, and I think it's time for me to love again. Pete Wentz, back into love action.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Christmas!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>more emails also HAPPY (late) NEW YEAR</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To:fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject: Christmas! </p><p>Parker, </p><p>Tomorrow is Christmas! Are you excited? I sure am, with my One Direction decorations on my tree and everyone wearing christmas sweaters! My mom was the one who got me to place a picture of Louis and Harry on top of our tree. I don't know why but I think that's kinda funny. </p><p>Anyway, what are your family traditions for Christmas? Mine are just spending all day at home, wearing sweaters and opening presents. Nothing special, we just watch a movie together as a family at the end of the day. </p><p>Also, really excited for Sunday. Like really. Can't wait to meet you :) </p><p>-Peterpan</p><p> </p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re: Christmas! </p><p>pete </p><p>of course im excited for Christmas!! my mom decided to have an arctic monkeys themed christmas tree, with alex as the star of the tree. it's her new obsession. </p><p>my family does what we call Christmas outing where we all wear sweaters and santa hats to target and do stupid things. and then buy a bunch of stuff for a homemade buffet and feast. and at the end we all have a little campfire and get our dad to sing christmas songs nothing special </p><p>i'm excited for Sunday too. :) gonna wear something cool and awesome :p</p><p>parker</p><p> </p><p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re:Christmas! </p><p>Parker</p><p>Where do we meet exactly? In front of the inner Target entrance? The Boscovs? Home Depot? Hot Topic? Adidas? Or the Food Court? </p><p>Peterrr</p><p> </p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To:brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re:Christmas! </p><p>hm what's your favorite place in the mall? right there. ;)) </p><p>parker </p><p> </p><p>From: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>To: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re:Christmas! </p><p>Parker</p><p>Barnes and Noble? </p><p>pw</p><p> </p><p>From: fireproofparker@gmail.com <br/>To: brokenromances@gmail.com <br/>Subject:Re:Christmas! </p><p>YUP :)))))</p><p>p</p>
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